


rockstar

by 80slieberher



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, This is completely self indulgent, hes a dom. what can i say, i just..love bill denbrough in positions of power, if youve read 24k? that but on crack, its not like. angsty per sae but, its. its really something, this isnt pwp but close to it i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80slieberher/pseuds/80slieberher
Summary: Only bad things can come about when Richie fucks up his car and his best friend has to drive him everywhere. Things like said best friend getting caught in the middle of a mass drug deal and then having sex with the kingpin, who isn't particularly willing to let him go, either.





	1. Chapter 1

“Where did you get two-hundred dollars? I though you only made, like, sixty, normally.” Stan questioned his best friend.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the suckers I sold to today,” Richie snickered, “Ten white boys, you could  _so_  tell they were from the suburbs, they paid eighty for a gram. It was hilarious, laughed my ass off in the car on the way home-,”

Stan sighed. “They’re kids, Richie. You’re a twenty-seven year old man, don’t you think it’s kind of wrong to take advantage of them like this?”

“Guy’s gotta eat, Stanny, what can I say?” Richie shrugged, “By the way, I-,”

“You have a job,” Stan retorted, turning finally from the dishes he was washing to his roommate, who sat up on the counter behind him. “You don’t need to sell any of your weed to them for extra pocket money - which, I’ve been smelling around the apartment, lately, and you better stop smoking in here. It stays on the porch, or not at all.”

Richie let out a dramatic sigh. “Don’t be mad, Stanley,” He whined, “And I  _am_  smoking outside! At least, it starts outside,” He laughed.

Stan rolled his eyes and returned to the dishes in the sink, going to dry them.

There was silence for a moment, and Stan figured Richie got the hint that he was irritated with him until he spoke up again.

“I’ll be  _super_  good this week, though!” He insisted, and Stan squinted. That was Richie’s  _I’m-about-to-ask-you-for-something_  voice.

“Why?” He asked warily, knowing there was a catch.

Richie was quiet for a moment, and Stan didn’t dare turn around, feeling a scowl set into his face already as he waited for Richie to explain himself. “…My car broke down earlier and I need you to drive me around for a little bit.”

“Richie!” Stan groaned and whined simultaneously, throwing his hands down at his sides and turning finally, looking at his friend exasperatedly. He loved Richie, but he was a pain in the ass sometimes. Most of the time.

“It’s just for the week, Stan! Just until my car can get fixed! I’m even gonna sell my whole next stash so I can get the money to pay for it quicker!” Richie tried to negotiate, but Stan was still irritated - and he could tell by the look on Richie’s face that he wasn’t even done yet.

“Speaking of…”

“No!” Stan argued, crossing his arms across his chest, “I would die for you, Richie, seriously, but I’m  _not_  driving you to a drug deal and waiting for you to enter my car with  _drugs_! What if I get pulled over, what if- What if-?!”

And that was how Stan ended up with Richie in his passenger seat the next evening, blasting  _rockstar_  by Post Malone through his AUX.

“Ya wifey say I’m lookin’ like a whole snack!” Richie sang, and Stan turned the volume down to talk over it.

“Which building did she say?” Stan asked, keeping his eyes on the road. Well, it wasn’t a road, it was a maze of what looked like abandoned warehouses - probably crawling with druggies - with paths between them. Stan shivered at the thought of how dangerous this was, and how stupid he’d been to let Richie convince him to do this.

“Building F thirty-six,” Richie answered, and then pointed, “It’s right there, I always meet her here. You know, if you let me drive, we could’ve gotten here a lot faster.”

“We also would’ve gotten a speeding ticket, asshole,” Stan retorted, pulling up to the curb so Richie could get out. “Hurry up, Mr. Mittens is probably getting hungry and I want to get home and feed him.”

Mr. Mittens was Stan’s beloved cat that Richie hated. He was fat and floofy with long, soft, black fur and big green eyes, and Richie swore he was bad luck - and maybe that was part of the reason Stan loved him so much.

“Fuck Mr. Mittens. I’ll take my time if I so please. He could stand to miss a meal, anyway! That cat is so obese-,” Stan shooed him out of the car before he could finish insulting his baby.

He tapped his hands on the wheel anxiously while he waited for Richie to return, keeping his eyes wide open and himself hyper aware. They’d had to drive forty-five minutes just to get here - which probably would have been twenty with the way Richie drives, but it was pretty far nonetheless. He wasn’t sure if there was even cell-phone service out here.

Checking his phone, he discovered there wasn’t. He wished Richie would hurry up.

Another five minutes later, Richie was jogging to the side of the little silver BMW - a short-haired, redhead girl trailing behind him and taking a drag of a cigarette. Or maybe it wasn’t a cigarette, exactly, Stan couldn’t tell from the distance.

“Stanny!” Richie sing-songed - using the voice he always used to schmooze Stan, “Bev, here, needs a ride. I usually spot her when she needs ‘em-,”

“No.” Stan stated simply, not particularly interested in helping. He just wanted to go home and feed his cat - he didn’t ask to be here in the first place.

“Staaaaan,” Richie whined, “C’mon, she cut me a deal on an ounce. It’s the least I can doooo! Please! She just needs a ride to a party so she can sell there-,”

Stan cut him off again with a sigh, only giving in so that Richie would shut up. Richie smiled triumphantly and waved this Bev into his backseat.

“You’re welcome to come if you want - it’s a rave, so it’s not like it’s gonna be lame. Richie could probably sell there, seeing as he’s in a bit of a predicament.” She laughed. She was charming, that was for sure. Stan saw her perfect white-tooth grin in his mirror. He thought maybe if she wasn’t a drug dealer, they might be good friends - as she was clearly just as on-board with making fun of Richie as he was. He let her put in the address before starting his car once again - relieved to be out of the area - following his GPS.

“That’s true,” Richie raised an eyebrow and ignored her tease, “We should go. Whaddaya say, Stan the man?”

“No,” Stan shrugged, “Thanks, uh, Bev, but we really need to get home.”

“You’re not even gonna let  _me_  go?” Richie whined.

Bev laughed. “You should go. Something tells me you’re not a party guy - but this isn’t any regular party.”

Stan felt his stomach churn, her voice felt too foreboding. It made him uncomfortable.

“I’m not a party guy, or a rave guy,” He tried to laugh off, “And no, Rich, you’re not going. If you do, I’m kicking you out and finding a new roommate.”

Richie sulked in his seat.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, Richie apparently too disgruntled to even play with the music like he usually did. He could sulk all he wanted, Stan wasn’t sorry.

“Are we coming up on it?” He asked Bev when they looked close - somehow they had managed to drive even further into nowhere, and he wasn’t even sure how his GPS was still working out here.

“Yeah, it’s right here. Last chance,  _Stan the man_.” She teased him, tongue between her teeth and nose scrunched as she grinned. He stopped the car in the parking lot of a large building.

Richie shot him a pleading look.

“No, thanks-,” He began to answer, and then Richie was out of the car and booking it toward the building, Bev laughing and running to catch up with him.

“ _Richie_!” Stan yelled, agitated and angry he would run off like that. He put the car in park, locked it, and got out - slamming the door behind him and walking in the same direction Richie had just run in, fuelled by anger and not even thinking about what awaited him once he got inside.

The scene that laid out in front of him behind the door was loud, and the floor shook, and it was dark - people lighting up neon on the dancefloor below.

He spotted Richie on the stairs and rushed toward him, scowl set deep into his face and grimacing hard every time a sweaty person slid past him.

“Richie!” He demanded, his friend receiving him with an arm slung around his shoulder.

“Look at all this, Stan,” He gestured to the people below, jumping and bumping into each other, some girls not even taking care to keep their breasts covered. “They’re all high - on different things, obviously,” He pointed to a guy leaning against the wall. “Acid, probably.” Then to a girl walking around aimlessly, giggling and holding her stomach. “Ecstasy.” And then a final couple of girls, pulling on each other’s hair lightly and looking beyond spaced out. “GHB.”

“This is disgusting,” Stan tried to tug Richie up the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Bev is part of a drug cartel. They’re providing for all these people - lucky we got in for free,” Richie chuckled. “See what I  _could_  be doing? But I’m not!” He smiled as if all of his bad deeds were suddenly erased and Stan should forgive him. “So let’s just have some fun!”

Stan looked at him like he was insane before Richie moved his arm from around his shoulders to his wrist and practically dragged him down the spiral of stairs. He wriggled out of Richie’s grip and put his hands on his hips authoritatively.

“Fine, we can stay for  _one hour_! And you better not leave my-,” Stan went to face Richie again, as he’d turned away for only a moment, but when he looked up the boy was gone. “Side.” He finished lamely and sighed.

He walked toward the stairs they had come down just a minute ago - planning on simply sitting in his car for the next hour or so or however long it took Richie to be finished in there. Maybe he would drive around and get some fresh air - it smelled too heavily of sweat, sex, alcohol, and weed (and various other drugs, most likely) in this place and it burned Stan’s nose.

He had his hand on the railing, ready to climb - when he caught a bobbing mass of black hair move into a hallway just barely in his peripheral vision. He turned to it and followed the person - thinking it was Richie and about to give him a piece of his mind.

When he got to the hallway, though, he found it empty, which he assumed was odd as this place seemed to be crawling with people.

He continued down it carefully, listening for any familiar voices, pressing his ear to each door and not caring how nosy he looked.

To his shock, when he pressed his ear up against a door with a gold-plated number one on it - he stumbled in, the un-latched door giving in easily under him.

A hand reached out and grabbed him swiftly before he could fall to the floor, and he was pulled up - a cloud of marijuana smoke being puffed into his face immediately. He realized the man who had caught him with one hand was holding a blunt in the other.

“You know,” He said distractedly, backing up against the wall to escape the disgusting scent of the smoke emitting from the man’s mouth, meanwhile fanning smoke out of his face, “You really shouldn’t smoke in such a small space. It’s certainly a hazard.”

“It’s my party,” The guy chuckled, taking a few steps closer to Stan again. He smelled strongly of weed and faint musky orange zest. He raised an unoccupied hand over Stan’s shoulder to press it against the wall. “I’ll smoke if I want to, thank you very much, princess.”

Stan almost sneered, but something about this guy gave him vibes not to. If it was Richie, he would have.

“This whole party is for you?” Stan asked instead, shaking away the eye-roll he felt coming on.

“It is,” His voice was smooth, calm, and he gave a light chuckle, “I’m the one throwing it, after all.”

He raised his other hand to his mouth and Stan, who noted by the lit blunt between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly was conscious of how close they were. He blew a cloudy puff of smoke into his face again, Stan closing his eyes and coughing.

He waved it away and found himself being leaned over, half-lidded, bright blue eyes ringed with pink as opposed to white staring down and him, he could tell even in the dim light. He felt hot all of a sudden, and pushed himself farther against the wall, turning his face away.

“Lighten up, princess,” A hand lazily grabbed at his chin, and Stan complied as it pulled his face forward smoothly, “Take a drag.”

Stan took in the appearance of the man holding a smoking blunt up to him suggestively, waiting for him to take it. He was tall, quite taller than Stan - perhaps by six inches or so - and he wore professional black slacks and a sort of sexy black dress shirt with thin vertical white stripes running down the fabric. The first few buttons were undone, leaving his shirt open enough to expose expensive-looking gold chains worn there.

“I don’t do drugs,” Stan choked out, holding up his hand in denial. The man laughed, dropping his hand and resting it by Stan’s other side against the wall.

“I should’ve guessed, you don’t look like someone who does. What’re you here for, then, goodie?” Stan felt mildly offended at the assumptions made about him, even if they were correct and he had no intentions of disproving them. The man continued, “Surely a sweet thing like you didn’t come all alone.”

He blew smoke over his shoulder, purposefully not in Stan’s face, before leaning in just a little closer. Stan was glad this guy was letting him breathe, at least.

“Don’t call me  _goodie_ , you don’t even know me,” He rolled his eyes this time, and took to crossing his arms over his chest. If he was going to be flirted with so obviously, he wasn’t going to act like he liked it, but he was sure the blush on his cheeks was giving him away and fast.

“Alright,” The guy chuckled again, almost giggled, his breath fanning down over the bridge of Stan’s nose and dusting over his cheeks. “I’m Bill. And you are? And you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. Why are you here?”

He thumbed at Stan’s chin again, taking Stan’s eyes from the light glinting off of the necklaces hanging from around his neck to his face. His eyes showed mild anxiety, eyebrows raised in question, but his voice didn’t show it - unwavering, still as smooth and slow as molasses as when he started talking.

Stan licked his lips and decided to play along, thinking maybe he could slip out in time to find Richie and go home and not miss Mr. Mitten’s dinnertime. He reached up to place gentle fingertips on this Bill’s cheekbone, tracing them across and into his red-brown hair slightly. He scanned his eyes along his face slowly, seductively, analysing for a pattern in the freckles that dotted across his cheeks, noting the light scar that went through his right eyebrow, splitting it just at the end. Stan admired his lips, parted slightly, and maybe if he were sober and not in this situation then Stan would have entertained him and gave him a fair chance - but they were there and he was high and Stan was probably two hours from home now with a fluffy cat to feed.

Bill leaned into the touch.

“Leaving - I have to find my friend,” Stan practically whispered, and they were close enough that Bill would be able to hear him, and went to slip under Bill’s arm that hung over his right side and to the door - just as it crashed open beside him, several people talking at once and sounding like a herd of elephants.

“No, he’s gonna tell you we’re packing the coke in the cushions! I asked him myself!”

“That’s ridiculous! We ought to send it in more than one vehicle - get it over slowly. And what about the heroin?”

“Is it even illegal to take heroin over the border? It’s just an opioid-,”

“If we’re crossing the border illegally, does it even matter?”

“Nose goes for not sitting in the limo! I’ll stay on this side of the Mexican border, thanks, there’s so many waterborne diseases over there-,”

Stan’s mouth parted, and he racked his brain quickly for a solution to the things he’d just heard, and then Bill was talking over them, effectively silencing them.

“No matter how many times I ask you, you guys don’t ever fucking knock, do you?” He laughed.

“Oh shit,” The young man who’d complained about the Mexican water tugged on his collar. He looked too well dressed for the place, like Bill - the rest dressed perfectly casually, fitting in with the crowd fine. “Sorry, boss.”

The rest nodded their heads, looking like children that had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar, chorusing apologies.

Stan had frozen underneath Bill, and went to move again, robotically. “Well, clearly I’m not supposed to be here, so I’ll just be going, then.”

He pretended not to recognize Bev when she shot him something that looked like a warning stare as he started toward the door.

Two buffer men moved in front of it - blocking his only exit - just as he approached, and he furrowed his eyebrows but stopped dead as Bill’s voice rang behind him.

“It’s a shame, I like to keep my love and work lives separate.”

Stan turned to him, eyes narrowed, “Let me go,” He was confused - but it was obvious that Bill was in charge of whatever was happening here. Some sort of drug smuggle scheme - something he wanted no part of. Though, he thought, hiding bags of cocaine in upholstery of multiple cars was the smartest route for them. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go to authorities immediately-

“No can do, princess,” He shrugged, as if he weren’t suggesting keeping Stan here against his will, “Your type’ll go straight to the cops,” There were stifled laughs around them, like Bill had just cracked a joke that Stan wasn’t in on. He supposed he did. “Guess you’re stuck with me if you want to keep living.” He laughed, and Stan’s stomach dropped and he closed his mouth that was hanging open, lips forming a hard line.

He watched Bill move to sit in a plush chair in the corner of the room, sitting at the head of a long table with five other, considerably not-as-nice chairs. There were only four other people in the room with them.

“Come here,” He motioned Stan toward him from across the room, and it took a moment for Stan to realize he was inviting him to sit on his lap. “I’ll explain.”

“I’m not going anywhere near you, what the  _fuck_?” Stan felt panic setting in, and he spun to face the door that was still being blocked. His mind raced past Mr. Mittens to his family, and his friends, and Richie. How was Richie going to get home? Stan had his keys on him. And if he was being kidnapped - what would Richie tell his parents? “You can’t- I’m leaving, get out of my way,” He continued to demand, approaching the door anyway and hoping his pure rage would get him past the guys.

It didn’t, He was held at arm’s length easily by the dark skinned man on the right.

“Thank you, Mike,” Bill chuckled, “Calm down, sweetheart, I’d offer you a drag, but…” He giggled, and he was really getting on Stan’s nerves now.

He ripped his arm away from the guy’s - Mike’s - grip, and faced Bill again. “I’m calling the fucking police, you can’t keep me here.” He whipped his phone out of his pocket and swiped the emergency call button, dialing 911 and holding it to his ear.

The call dropped immediately.

“No cell service for miles, babe,” Bill smirked as he exhaled, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, “You’re not going anywhere, so might as well make yourself comfortable.” He patted his lap.

“Hey,” A head peaked in from the other side of the door, speaking as he opened it, and Mike and the other guy moved out of the way quickly to let him in. “Sorry I’m late, there was this stripper-,” Richie stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up to see Stan staring at him, mouth gaping again.

“Oh  _shit_ ,” He let out, and then covered his mouth and readjusted himself. “Ah, hey, Stan, Stanny, Stanley, Stan the man, Goose, my very best friend in the whole wide world, what, uh, what brings you here? And how many extra chores am I going to have to do to keep living in your apartment?”

Stan wanted to hit him, and he ground his teeth and opened his mouth - but Bill beat him to it.

“You two know each other?” Bill’s tone took a delighted turn, and Stan glanced over to see him beaming suggestively.  _This guy’s an asshole!_  “Richard, I can’t believe you’ve never introduced me to your friend before. Stanley, is it, then? Or Goose? That’s cute; I’m partial to princess, personally. Now, would you all come sit so we can plan?”

Stan stood still with a silent scowl and tried to stare Mike and Ben down as Richie passed him - giving him a pleading look that he ignored - while he, Bev, and the guy that complained about the water took their seats. The latter looked vaguely familiar, but Stan couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Stanley, darling, if you would take yours so Mike and Ben could sit down,” Bill feigned nicety - or maybe not feign, but exaggerated. Stan could tell there was force behind his words, they would’ve sounded threatening if he hadn’t put a sickly sweet coating over them.

“It’s Stan, and don’t call me darling, don’t call me anything but Stan,” Stan huffed, glaring across the room where Bill still sat with his head in his hands, an amused smile playing on his lips. Stan ignored it and glared at Richie, who sat to water guy’s right - who was on the right of Bill. “No.” Stan stated simply.

Bill turned his attention, finally, to Richie instead of Stan. “Richie, what do  _you_  think?”

Richie didn’t meet either of their eyes, instead looking at his thumbs that he was twiddling together on the table. It was extremely unlike him - and it made Stan very nervous. He waited with bated breath for Richie’s response.

_You’ll stay on my good graces if you take my side. You’re my best friend, if you don’t take my fucking side-_

“I think you should do what he fucking says, Stan.” Richie’s voice was warning - something Stan couldn’t pretend he didn’t catch if he wanted to. He didn’t sound scared, exactly, but he was tense. On edge.

Stan gulped and bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating for a moment. If Richie, someone that almost never yielded to authority, yielded to Bill - then Bill was probably a force to be reckoned with.

He looked at the door once more before accepting that there was no way he was getting out of there without obeying.

He swallowed his pride and walked toward an expectant-looking Bill, perching on the very edge of his knee with a frown. Bill looped strong arms around his waist and pulled him onto his lap farther- so far that his back was to Bill’s chest and Bill’s head was resting on his shoulder.

The position was unfortunately comfortable, and Stan allowed himself to be held while Bill commenced the meeting by his ear, Mike and Ben, he supposed, taking their seats next to Bev on Bill’s other side.

“So, to address the discourse,” He began calmly, “We are taking the heroin and the coke over the border - and we’re taking it in several cars, hidden in the upholstery.”

Stan agreed silently. So this guy was an asshole, but he was a smart asshole, at least.

“Do I have to go?” The boy to their right piped up. “I mean, I was serious - there’s so many diseases I haven’t been vaccinated for-,”

Stan felt the rumble of Bill’s chuckle as it emitted. “No, Eddie, you can stay and direct the drivers. Find good time intervals for them all to leave so that it doesn’t look suspicious.” Stan felt him nod.

“It may take a few months or weeks at least for me to organize this all with Big Al,” He sighed, and Stan noted the change in his voice. He sounded stressed. “You all know we operate somewhat competitively - but we have more access to coke and heroin, and he has more access to the hallucinogens, which we always need big supplies for. Clearly.”

Stan was silent until he realized Bill was explaining to him.

“Uh- uh, oh?” He fumbled, “Okay.” He nodded.

Bill let out one breathy laugh and addressed the group again.

“I’m going over in one of the cars to meet him, and he’ll send me back over with the goods packed into the cars. A trade deal - somewhat. You know the drill, discuss amongst yourselves who’ll do what. Keep in mind Eddie’s on directing already.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “Typical. Why don’t the rest of us ever get to stay at home?”

“Oh, shut it, Beverly,” Richie laughed, “These are the most exotic places we’ll ever see.”

While they continued to bicker, Stan felt Bill’s head shift, and breath fanning onto his neck - his heart sped up. He wasn’t sure what to do - sitting on Bill’s lap, he’d realized Bill had what felt like a gun in his left pocket. Stan quite liked staying alive - and he tried to mind Richie’s words earlier.

 _Just do what he says, do what he says and you can get out of here soon enough. You can take Richie home and make him sleep on the balcony for this. For the next week. And let Mr. Mittens sleep in his bed,_ Stan told himself, unsurprised when he felt Bill run his tongue in a teasingly short line just to his ear.

He swallowed and Bill placed a delicate kiss to the side of his neck, teeth barely grazing the skin, nosing his jaw for him to lean his head back. His eyes fluttered closed and he obliged, chills running down his spine as Bill worked down his neck some more, breath from his nostrils cooling the spots that he moved away from. His hands began roaming over Stan’s body, pulling out his shirt from tucked in his pants and running cold hands up and down Stan’s sides. Stan felt him smirk when he squirmed silently, biting at his neck lightly. Stan felt Bill’s growing hard-on under his ass like his own in his pants, and for a moment forgot there was anyone in the room with them - until Richie opened his mouth.

“Ew, Bill,” He scoffed, and Bill’s mouth didn’t detach from Stan’s neck as he adjusted - presumably to look at Richie. “That’s my best friend, you don’t need to do that right in front of me. Like, could you just fucking not right now-?”

Bill disconnected from Stan’s neck - who kept his eyes closed and his head leaned back and pulled childishly on Bill’s arm for more. He wasn’t sure what it was about Bill that was so intoxicating when he was close - but he could appreciate the feeling of hickies being sucked into his soft skin and hands roaming his body and wanted more.

“Mind your shit, Richard,” He laughed off, going again to graze his lips over and down Stan’s jawline.

“I’m just saying!” Richie defended, “It’s fucking gross, I shouldn’t have to watch you basically fuck-,”

Stan’s eyes popped open as he was moved abruptly. Bill reached into his pocket swiftly - whipping out what Stan had, correctly, assumed earlier was a gun (it was a pistol) and pointing it at Richie. Meanwhile, he dipped his fingers teasingly into the waistband of Stan’s pants.

“Any further comments?” He asked over Stan’s shoulder - and Stan looked around now, and was suddenly aware of the deafening silence engulfing them - all eyes on him. He grew uncomfortable under the five stares.

He was sure he was turning beet red, and when Richie merely looked between Bill and Stan’s faces before rolling his eyes, Bill put the pistol in his back pocket and resumed his hands’ wondering - trying to slip deeper into Stan’s pants before Stan quickly caught his wrist. He turned from their apparent audience into the crook of Bill’s neck - his face hot.

“ _We’re in front of people_ ,” He mumbled, not willing to look any of them in the eyes ever again.

“So you would let me if we were alone?” Bill chuckled into his ear, and Stan squirmed.

So Stan sat, embarrassed, in Bill’s lap for another thirty minutes while they discussed their plan - not opening his mouth when he had an idea that he thought might be better. He still wanted to stay as far away from this mess as he could. He didn’t want to get arrested, he was too young to go to jail!

When they were finished, he watched Bill accept a notebook from Ben.

“Up, baby,” He chuckled into Stan’s ear - who jumped up quickly.

“Right, sorry,” He shook his head, making his way to Richie who was talking to the smaller guy - Eddie, Stan remembered - in the corner.

They raised their eyebrows at each other - and while Stan was becoming somewhat accustomed to Bill’s company after spending an hour in it, he was still angry with Richie for dragging him into this in the first place. He didn’t know what came after this.

“Feed Mittens when you get home. I don’t think he’s letting me go.” He instructed coldly.

Richie sighed, “I’m sorry - but if you just let me come alone, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I can’t believe- how long have you been keeping this from me? You’re my best friend, Richie, I tell you everything. Nice to know that sentiment isn’t reciprocated.”

“Stan,” Richie pleaded, “Come on-,” but Stan turned away, as Bill called him instead.

“Stan! We’re leaving!”

“I told you he wasn’t going to let me go home,” He gritted his teeth and reached down into his pocket for his keys, shoving them into Richie’s hand. “Mr. Mittens needs to be fed at ten sharp tomorrow morning. He’s probably starving by now, my poor baby,” Stan fretted, before shaking his head and trying to focus on the reality of the situation. “You know where the food is. Have him sleep in your bed, he likes to sleep with a warm body, and-,”

“Stan!” Bill called again, and Stan could hear the impatience in his voice.

“Okay, bye, I guess? I guess I’ll see you soon?”

Richie nodded solemnly. “I’ll come by Bill’s tomorrow and see what’s up,” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “Do you want me to try to talk him out of it? I can try-,”

But Stan’s hand was being taken before he could answer, and he looked up to find Bill walking him away from Richie and out the door. Apparently druglords do not have very high patiences.

Stan followed him in silence and without any physical protest as Bill led him up a different set of stairs, uncrowded by people and not as hot as the one he’d come in from.

He unlocked a couple doors as they passed through them until they finally came to the one that led them outside. Stan relished the crisp, nippy late-summer night air. He looked up at the stars littering the sky, and hoped to God that Mittens would survive at least a night in Richie’s care.

Bill walked Stan around to the side and opened his door for him, and the Stan he was an hour ago would have rolled his eyes, closed the door, and reopened it for himself - but he was stressed and trying to ignore his problems, so he just got in.

With the drug kingpin that could probably kill him in numerous ways in mere seconds if he tried to make any fast escapes. What a great experience this was turning out to be.

They were fifteen minutes into a silent car ride when Bill pulled something from behind his ear and a lighter from his pocket, slowing as he tucked it into his mouth and leaned in to his lighter to light it.

Stan watched him curiously as he held the joint, Stan realized, to his lips almost as if it were a cigarette, but he didn’t bother rolling down the window to blow out the smoke.

Stan did.

“Put it up,” Bill instructed distractedly, taking another hit.

“No,” Stan answered, training his eyes on the road in front of them now that Bill was driving inebriated - he was already inebriated when they left, Stan remembered. If only he wasn’t playing prisoner for the night, then maybe he would have been able to do something about that. But he couldn’t.

“Yes,” Bill mirrored his matter-of-fact attitude, and pressed a button on the steering wheel to put up Stan’s window for him.

Stan furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, and leaned over the console to pluck the joint from Bill’s fingers. “You shouldn’t even be smoking while driving. That’s, like, kind of illegal.”

Bill laughed and put his hand on Stan’s thigh, unanswering.

“I’ll throw this out the window,” Stan threatened, suddenly much more opposed to Bill’s touch than he was before - remembering that he’d pulled childishly on his arm for more of it, “Hands to yourself.”

Bill didn’t move his hand, choosing instead to egg Stan on. “Do it. I have a m-million more and then some in the back, I would just have to roll it which would only take up more of my time and, by extent, yours.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” Stan questioned, naturally very curious.

“I’m the kingpin, baby,” Bill flashed him a smile composed of perfectly straight and white teeth. He wasn’t sure if they were real. “I can never get caught.”

“Yes you can,” Stan argued, not understanding, “Especially if you do things out in the open like this.”

Bill chuckled again and moved his hand farther up Stan’s thigh. “I have plants everywhere,” He explained, and Stan really started putting the pieces together, “No one will send anyone after me, or they’ll have to deal with m-my guys  _and_  they’ll lose my… _funding_. Let’s just say I know how to cut a fair deal.”

So if Richie knew Stan, and Bill wouldn’t get in trouble even if Stan did go to the police, why couldn’t he let Stan go?

“So why can’t I leave, then? If even if I went to the cops, you wouldn’t get caught, and Richie’s my best friend - I would never turn him in even for murder.”

Bill snorted. “That’s probably good then,” He mumbled, and Stan furrowed his eyebrows before it clicked. He meant Richie killed someone before - and suddenly he felt slimy and weird. So Richie really could have killed him at any time if he wanted to. The thought was odd, but Stan supposed by any sheer will he also could have killed Richie - so maybe that made them even.

Stan didn’t really want to think about it.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Stan retorted just as they pulled into a driveway with a large golden gate, a golden “D” shimmering in the headlights.

Bill waited until they were parked in front of a large house - well, it better constituted as a mansion - to answer.

Turning to Stan, he plucked the joint from his fingers in one swift move and relit it, taking a drag and exhaling with his words. “Maybe I just don’t want you to.”

Stan thought this was a stupid excuse. There  _had_ to be a reason.

Bill pointedly blew the rest of the smoke emanating from his mouth into Stan’s face - who didn’t cough this time but merely scrunched up his nose in disgust. Bill laughed.

“Richie never told you what blowing smoke in someone’s face means?” He asked rhetorically, but Stan shook his head anyway.

“No, and I guess I would like to know considering you won’t quit doing it to me,” Stan rolled his eyes and turned in his seat to face Bill, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It means I-,” Bill cut himself off with a chuckle, looking down to where his hand still rested on Stan’s thigh, and he inched it upward again - if he went any higher, he might as well have been palming Stan through his jeans. “ _Wouldn’t mind_ fucking you tonight,” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and Stan watched his eyes rake over Stan’s body. “Or tomorrow night, or any night - or day! Let’s not discriminate! - of your choosing, really.”

“Give me this,” Stan redirected, snatching the roll away from Bill again, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, not being about to calm himself down on his own. His head hurt with stress - none of this was normal. He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t have met Bill, he shouldn’t have been at that meeting or that party. He should be at home cuddled up in bed with his cat - not involved with a drug cartel. Richie was so hearing it tomorrow morning. He took a drag - or tried, at least. It had been nearly ten years since the first and last time Richie had him smoke, and even back then he couldn’t do it right. It didn’t look as hard as it was.

He coughed hard and for a long time, trying to rid himself of the burning in this throat, and when he met Bill’s eyes again he was holding out a bottle of water to him with a smug look on his face. He gingerly took the piece between Stan’s fingers away and took a hit himself.

Stan uncapped the bottle as Bill did this, and watched him take some in through his mouth and then hold it open and breathed it in through his nose. Stan grimaced, thinking that must burn, and was grateful Bill kept water around.

“But I’m not patient, Stanley,” Bill tutted, voice low and leaning in, and his hand moved again on his thigh, up and down, and Stan held his breath. “Patience doesn’t get me what I want.”

Stan tried to derail the conversation again, avoiding the topic of sex. “Why would you do that for fun?” He asked, nodding to the object in Bill’s left hand, “That felt terrible.”

Stan tensed when Bill’s fingers grazed his crotch, and he wished he could say he wasn’t getting turned on.

“I can show you better-feeling things we can do for fun,” Bill’s eyes drooped slightly while he flirted, it coming out a lot sexier than any of Richie’s innuendos ever did.

Stan gulped and he was quiet and still - maybe considering taking him up on the offer. He could use some de-stressing.

Bill’s eyes trailed over to the joint. “Have you smoked before?” He asked, and Stan thought back to the time in his high school senior year and nodded. “Have you ever been high before?” Stan thought about the few hits Richie had guided him through, all of them ending in his throat burning and coughing, and shook his head. Bill smiled, and leaned in much closer to Stan - so much their faces were only inches apart over the center console. “Let me make this easier, then… Breathe in when I breathe out, okay?”

Stan nodded, and then observed as Bill pulled back a moment, sucked in from the joint, and then gently took Stan’s face in his free hand, pulling their lips together.

Stan closed his eyes and tried to go about it like a normal kiss, but Bill had started open mouthed and was exhaling, so Stan tried his best to inhale. It didn’t burn as bad as it did inhaling from the joint itself, and even after he stopped feeling the smoke tickle his face they didn’t stop. His lips moved intuitively with Bill’s, tongues just barely touching with their movements, and Bill moved his hand from Stan’s face to his waist, gliding over his neck where he’d marked him earlier and down his arm on the way. The hand that was on his thigh moved to his hip, and Stan opened his mouth and deepened the kiss when he felt hands creeping up his shirt.

Bill pulled back, smirking down at Stan. “I th-think that worked.”

“I think we should do it again, just to be sure,” Stan rushed, leaning up and chasing Bill’s mouth, but Bill was faster, leaning back toward his own door and grabbing the handle.

“Well, we could do this in here, or we could do a lot m-more in there,” He nodded to the house, and there was one moment of pause before Stan ran his tongue across his bottom lip and they both started scrambling out of the car.

The kiss they met at the door with was promising, Bill letting smoke escape from his mouth into Stan’s again and him inhaling more welcomingly. Keys jingled out of pocket and Bill shoved them into the doorknob in his haste, taking another puff in the meantime, breathing it into Stan’s face - he didn’t flinch this time.

They pulled apart when Bill opened the door, waiting for Stan to enter before following - Stan noticed him lock it behind him and tuck the keys into his back pocket. Bill didn’t trust him not to run yet. Smart.

He looked around - the place was spacey. Cluttered, but spacey, if that made sense. It wasn’t exactly unorderly, there were just… a lot of  _things_. Several large piles of money, big enough to climb on, just sitting out, as well as two couches, a couple bean bags and other comforts, and three plasma screens on three different walls - and dark theme to the room just to top it all off. Maroon walls and an ash-gray carpet. And that was just the living room.

After Stan had finished taking his brief inventory, he realized Bill was walking past him, grabbing him by his wrist and pulling him along behind. He went.

He pulled Stan wordlessly to one of the large stacks - it sat at about Bill’s hip level and Stan’s waist - which Bill turned and heaved him by, setting him on it as if it were actually a table and not stacks of hundred dollar bills held loosely together by clear plastic. You’d think Bill lived in a mint.

“Why do you have all this money laying out?” Stan inquired while Bill lifted him, the joint held between his pursed lips in the meantime. He set Stan on the counter before removing it, licking his lips and raking his eyes over Stan again.

“I like to look at it,” He practically breathed, and if Stan wasn’t beginning to feel a little hazy he would have made a comment about the way Bill was undressing him with his eyes.

“Oh,” Was all Stan answered before he grew impatient and pulled Bill by his shirt slightly, letting him know he wanted to kiss again.

Bill was faster than Stan, moving up to hold his wrists just as he grabbed onto Bill’s shirt. He smirked, “Fast learner, then? No patience,” He tutted teasingly, stepping forward between Stan’s legs that hung over the platform.

Stan hummed, and then Bill’s hand was on his thigh and he was leaning down to Stan’s face again - smoke escaping his mouth. Stan met him in the middle, leaning forward unto him and feeling slightly off balance. He reached out for Bill’s shoulders to steady him.

He felt Bill’s teeth with his tongue sloppily as Bill giggled, opening his mouth in a way that made their kiss deepen awkwardly, but it was comfortable somehow. Stan felt at ease for the first time that night, despite how hard his heart was beating. He could feel it racing in his chest.

Bill pulled back to have another breath of the joint and then went back in to share it with Stan - and they continued this until Bill declared it was ‘done’ and tossed it somewhere below them.

Stan’s mouth felt dry even with Bill’s tongue occupying it, and he pulled back with a grimace, smacking his tongue to the roof.

“Are you high?” Bill asked with a lazy, bemused smile, running his hands up and down Stan’s thighs. The feeling felt different than it did before - more intense now, like every sensual touch Bill placed on him was obscenely pleasureful, and Stan smacked his mouth again.

“Can I have some water?” He asked slowly, dumbly. He liked how he was feeling, but he didn’t like that feeling. He confused himself easily.

Bill smiled fully and nodded, grazing his fingers over Stan’s thigh as he left, and it felt like it took him forever to get back but he did and with a glass of water that Stan took gratefully.

Bill put his hands on Stan’s hips slowly, rubbing circles into them while Stan sipped at his water and reveled in the sensation. He’d never felt anything like it before - it was delightfully indescribable.

Decided he was done, he set the glass down beside him carefully and then pulled Bill down by his neck again, trailing his lips sloppily over his jawline and down his neck, trying to suck hickies into the skin the way he’d done to Stan.

Bill hummed, and his hands took a trip up Stan’s shirt again, giving Stan chills just because of the new sensitivity of his nerves.

“Are we doing this tonight?” Bill mumbled, his words coming later than his actions as he pulled Stan’s shirt up, obviously trying to get him to take it off. “Do you want to, I mean?” Stan disconnected from his neck and let Bill pull his shirt off.

He whined and tugged on Bill’s shirt, pulling it out from his pants while Bill buried his head into Stan’s chest, leaving desperate, open-mouthed and sloppy kisses just under his shoulders.

Stan’s hands fumbled with Bill’s shirt buttons, starting at the bottom and making his way up, the feeling of Bill’s warm hands roaming over his bare skin very distracting.

“You’re so perfect,” He murmured so low Stan could barely hear, “Look at you, princess, so perfect…”

Stan whined at the praise, leaning back a little and trusting Bill to hold him up, and wrapped his legs around the taller man’s waist, pulling him closer and their hips together.

When he was finally finished with Bill’s buttons, the shirt fell open below Bill limply, and Stan couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight before him.

Bill’s body was beautiful, and he would have articulated that if he wasn’t rendered speechless. His torso was long and muscled, abs rippling down his stomach and pecks beautifully defined, decalled with freckles dotting his skin in light patches on his chest like they did his cheeks. Stan felt like he could start drooling at any given moment, and reached out a hand to run it down Bill’s stomach, wanting to feel the warm skin under his fingertips - but Bill caught his wrist sternly as he barely grazed the surface.

“I need you to give me an answer, baby,” He breathed lowly into Stan’s ear, licking a teasingly light curve along the outside of it, making him shiver.

“ _Yes_ ,” Stan managed to get out in a breath, not taking his eyes off of the way Bill held his wrist. Hard but not so that it was painful, simply dominantly. He liked the power Bill was asserting over him, liked that he was holding him like that, liked that he wasn’t doing all the work like he seemed to have to do all the time with everyone else. He liked this, and he didn’t want it to stop here or soon.

Bill ground their hips together, giving Stan the friction he didn’t realize he was craving - all of these sensations feeling better than they ever had before. Stan thought he might cum in his pants when Bill released his wrist, it dropping limply back to his side, and instead used that hand to palm Stan through the pants he didn’t think he still should’ve been wearing.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart,” Bill’s voice was smooth in his ear again, and Stan’s hips bucked up into Bill’s hand as he realized he had gone completely limp in Bill’s arms - him holding Stan up with only one this whole time.

“I want to fuck tonight, please,” Stan took his hands and put them on either side of Bill’s face, bringing it in front of him, and then placed deliberate, desperate kisses along Bill’s jawline. His eyes fluttered closed and he nearly pleaded, “Fuck me, Bill.”

Bill hooked fingers into the waistband of Stan’s pants almost immediately and harshly, moving to his ear again to bite at it before growling, “That’s Sir to you from now on, princess, got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Stan whined again, Bill’s teasing touches around his underwear driving him close to insane, “Please fuck me, Sir.”

Bill chuckled, pulling Stan to sit upright, fiddling with the button on his pants and making the whole process feel excruciatingly slow. “Normally I wouldn’t give in this easily,” Stan held his breath as he listened to Bill’s words and the sound of a zipper being pulled down, “But I knew I wanted you the second I laid my eyes on you,” Stan could feel his pants being tugged down his legs now, and he tried to kick them off in aid - hearing them drop to the floor and left now in his boxers. “And I want to show you how good this feels when you’re high.”

“Hmm,” Stan moaned, squirming against Bill until the man was off of him, and he pushed himself off of the stack and dropped to his knees in front of Bill. He could see the outline of Bill’s hard dick in his jeans and licked his lips while he unbuttoned them - he had to know if it was really that big or just a trick of the light.

Once unbuttoned and unzipped, Stan didn’t have to fish in Bill’s boxers for long to pull him out, springing forward and making Stan gasp. It was definitely not a trick of the light. He grabbed at the base as squeezed a second, and then began pumping up and down the shaft shallowly with little flicks of his wrist.

He glanced up at Bill through half lidded, innocent eyes and Bill merely smirked back down at him, cocking an eyebrow up and licking his lips. Stan was quick to run his tongue over the slit teasingly, looking up at Bill the whole time. For good measure, he even disconnected from Bill’s dick to summon saliva to his mouth, spitting on him as lubricant of sorts for him to use at the base of his cock - where he was fairly sure his mouth wouldn’t be able to reach. He went back to his small licks at the tip, looking up at Bill with wide and innocent eyes to which Bill answered with his tongue running over his teeth and a lustful stare.

“God, that was fucking dirty, princess,” Bill smirked, almost laughing - but his smile was quickly wiped away when his gaze darkened. “More, now.”

Stan didn’t comply, just continuing to kitten lick and moan softly around the tip of Bill’s cock, mouthing at it with the edges of his lips. Bill grunted at his disobedience and moved to tangle fingers in Stan’s soft, curly locks, mumbling something about him “looking like an angel,” before using his leverage to push down on Stan’s head.

Given no choice, Stan took more of Bill in, already taking up the majority of his mouth and not even a third of the way down. He tried to focus on the task at hand instead of if that was going to hurt later or not. He hallowed his cheeks and pumped with his hand while the one of the back of his head guided him, and he realized he was getting sloppier, spit around his mouth building up as he tried to take more of Bill’s dick in. He spared another look up to Bill and found him biting his bottom lip with eyes closed gently, and then Stan realized the hand wasn’t pushing anymore and that Bill was simply enjoying. He hummed in satisfaction with himself, which proved to be fateful as Bill’s other hand tangled in his hair and pulled him off.

“Open wide, sweetheart,” Bill instructed, tapping Stan’s cheek twice.

Stan gave an inquiring look but did so, albeit slowly, and Bill looked down at him with an amused expression.

“What? Never had your mouth fucked before?” Bill winked, and pulled Stan onto him, not hard but forcefully at least. Stan tried to bob his head down deeper than he was before, but Bill was pulling him back again, and then back on. Stan realized groggily that it wasn’t his head that was moving but Bill’s hips, pistoning in and out of his mouth that was dripping with saliva now, connecting him to Bill’s dick. He wobbled, and held up onto Bill’s thighs for support, Bill not slowing his thrusts.

He tried somewhat to work against his hips, taking him deeper in his throat with every thrust. He could tell Bill was holding back, but Stan didn’t want him to, if he was going to get throat fucked he was going to do it right.

He went as far as he could on Bill, feeling his cock hit a spot he didn’t ever dare pass, and noted he still only had about two thirds in his mouth that was as well open wide and filled almost completely. Bill let out a long groan from above him and pulled Stan off. He sat back on his knees and looked up at Bill, barely feeling himself pout. “I wasn’t done,” He complained between hard breaths.

“You don’t decide when you’re done,” Bill’s voice was hard but his touch was soft as he combed his fingers through the hair he was just pulling, smoothing it. “I do.  _Sir_  does. Understand?”

Stan’s demeanor changed almost immediately, squeaking “Yes, sir.” His breathing was ragged, and he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the cool feeling of saliva.

He stood, then Bill was dropping down and pulling Stan’s boxers with him, and then picking him up by his waist with ease and setting him back on the plastic wrapped stacks of green paper.

Stan sat for a moment and watched Bill silently pull a bottle from his back pocket and set it beside Stan before discarding his own pants as well as his boxers. Stan almost wanted to reach out for him again, liking the way Bill’s big dick felt in his hand - but Bill was pushing him to lay down before he had the chance. He stared up at the ceiling and felt Bill stroke up and down his thighs once before lifting them up and putting them over what felt obviously as his shoulders.

He listened to a cap popping open, and then suddenly there were hands spreading his asscheeks and a finger tracing circles around his hole. He squirmed in surprise, and Bill’s voice rose from below him.

“Do you like that? Having your asshole played with? Want me to continue?” It was curious, but sexy, and Stan could’ve giggled - but instead he barely parted his mouth and answered, “Yes, sir, please…”

Almost immediately, lips were running over where a finger had just been, and then a tongue while a hand reached up and brushed Stan’s own hard dick - Stan gasping and lifting his head just to see what was going on, thoughts not working as fast as usual.

Bill’s eyes met his as he looked down. He could only see Bill’s hand beginning to work his cock, and he went to buck his hips up, but Bill pressed his arm down into his hip to stop him. His eyes moved from over his heaving chest to Bill’s again, where he could only see the top half of his face. His mouth fell open in another small gasp when Bill ran his tongue in a line over his hole again, winking at him.

He groaned, letting his head fall back again, and enjoyed everything Bill was making him feel. He relished in Bill’s tongue poking in and out of him, and moaned once fingers were lubed and added torturously slowly. They brushed around inside him and Stan could tell he was looking for something, but gave no hints as he couldn’t think past Bill’s wet tongue swirling and licking on the surface around the fingers. He could feel his own chest heaving and his legs and thighs shaking around Bill’s shoulders - who seemed contentedly quiet while Stan was being the opposite, his mouth fallen open and releasing consecutive “Ah, ah, ah!”s.

“I’m-,” Stan panted, Bill pushing in a third finger and causing him to revel momentarily at how much Bill was stretching him. “Gonna cum if you don’t stop.” He rushed.

Bill had stopped eating Stan out a few minutes before, now simply fingering him and stroking his cock while Stan moaned and wriggled under his touch. “You’re so cute,” He laughed breathily before his face dropped quickly. “But no, you’re not,” Bill was stern but placed a gentle kiss to Stan’s hip, tickling him. “Sir tells you when you’re allowed to cum. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Stan squeaked feebly, overcome with everything that was going on, clenching the muscles in his stomach to try to hold himself off.

“Good, now be good for me, princess.”

Bill slid in a fourth finger, the lube on them squelching in Stan as he tried to grind his hips on them, screwing his eyes closed.

“What’s taking so long?” He forgot himself quickly and demanded. The plastic underneath his palms made a squeaking noise as his hands slid on it, trying to find something to hold onto. Bill took the hand that was on his dick and linked his fingers with Stan’s, who held his hand tightly, but released a bit as he could stand being only fingered rather than fingered and jerked.

“Patience, princess,” Bill replied calmly and kissed the inside of Stan’s hip on the other side, his fingers never stopping thrusting into him, “I have to get you properly ready for my cock.”

“Patience doesn’t get me what I want,” Stan whined, repeating Bill’s words from in the car earlier. He was suddenly being yanked up by the arm that was holding Bill’s hand seconds ago, Bill’s hand that now had a rough grip on his bicep. “Obedience does,” Bill growled in his ear, holding Stan upright as he pulled his fingers out of him slowly, Stan mourning the lost contact, but as his eyes travelled to what the hand was doing he realized it wouldn’t be lost for long. Bill was stroking himself and Stan could see the Iube glistening on his cock. Bill kissed his jawline feverishly before returned to his ear. “I don’t have a condom, do you still want to-?” He mumbled, not sounding embarrassed, exactly, but not sounding his cocky self either. Stan found it kind of endearing, and humored him, waiting for the cockiness to return at his words.

“Yes,” He moaned, “Raw me, that’s so hot-,”

“Christ,” Bill mumbled before cutting him off by smushing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss, teeth and tongues poking into each other’s. Stan’s legs were still hooked over Bill’s shoulders, though it was really just half of his calves and feet now as Bill stood upright, and he put his hands behind him to prop himself up while Bill moved his hand, too - from Stan’s arm to his throat. He cupped it gently as he aligned himself with Stan’s entrance - and Stan thought it was almost laughable how cute he looked with his tongue poked out the way it was, but wasn’t laughing the minute Bill pushed in. His threw his head back instead, eyes closing tight, and cried out. It was partially in pain, but Bill didn’t overwhelm him too much, and was still so Stan could get comfortable.

Bill hummed a negative, and used the hand that was on Stan’s throat to tug at his chin, pulling his face forward and causing his eyes to open.

“Watch,” Bill instructed, moving his hand back to Stan’s throat - but only after playfully thumbing at his bottom lip. Stan ‘mm-hmm’d in response, watching Bill’s hips start to move, dick appearing and disappearing below him.   
Stan hissed and spared a glance up at Bill, who merely smirked back down at him - telling that he already knew why. He asked anyway.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He smirked, but Stan didn’t have to answer, and instead watched Bill’s eyes travel to where he was thrusting as his tongue glided across his lower lip before perfect teeth sunk into it, bringing it into his mouth. “Stretching you is so fucking hot-,”

Stan moaned, cutting him off, but he continued.

“How do you fuck, baby?” Bill asked, obviously trying to egg him on to say something - but Stan was beyond that, mouth only hanging open so moans could escape and for him to bite his lips near bloody. “Have you ever been fucked dirty before? That’s how I fuck.” His thrusts remained slow and calculated, and his hands roamed Stan’s thighs and body while Stan’s hands stayed clamped on the plastic behind him.

“Handcuffs, once,” He managed to pant, and Bill’s grip on his throat tightened just around the edges. Drags in and out of him started up faster, and his breath hitched.

“Aw, you’re adorable,” Bill almost laughed, leaning in to place a gentle kiss to Stan’s temple - whose eyes almost rolled back in his head. “I’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

His voice was sweet but serious, and it would probably have come out like a growl if there weren’t so much sugar in it.

“Please, sir,” Stan moaned and tried to move his face to catch Bill’s lips. He succeeded, and felt Bill smirk against him in their kiss as thrusts quickened, making Stan whimper again. “More,” He begged.

Stan’s eyes opened and closed again and repeated, trying to remind himself that Bill wanted him to watch but not being able to help himself squeezing them closed whenever Bill brushed his prostate. “More?” He watched Bill smirk before his eyes shut tight again, and he gripped onto Bill’s bicep with one arm, leaving angry red nail marks in his wake as thrusts inside him speeded up again.

Bill fucked him for a minute like this, Stan’s mouth fallen open just enough to let out moans, before he spoke up again in an obvious attempt to egg Stan on to say something. “Do you like it rough, princess?” He teased, speaking lazily and slowly, taking his hand from around Stan’s throat to gently trace his fingers along his jawline, and then to under his chin, almost pushing Stan’s head up to face him. It was hard for Stan to fathom how he was being so soft while fucking him so hard, and he felt a little dizzy, but it somehow made the experience more enjoyable. “Like when Sir fucks you hard?”

Stan thought it was a bit cheesy, if he was honest, like Bill was trying to replicate something out of a fantasy (or a porno), but he was having good sex, so he wasn’t going to outwardly complain. “Uh huh,” He said instead, finding his words connected to his thoughts rather groggily, mind moving faster than his mouth could hope to. He was quiet for a minute and then realized Bill  _probably_  wanted him to continue, so he blinked, and then said the first thing that came to mind - a classic. It always worked. “Uh, you’re so big, sir,” He exaggerated his moan, and then tried to focus his attention back onto getting fucked, pretending that didn’t just happen.

“I can tell when someone’s faking it,” Bill suddenly pulled him in close, fingers closing tightly around Stan’s jaw, the sudden roughness of his fingers felt angry, but his words sounded genuine enough. He slowed down significantly, nearly stopping. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Stan blurted faster than he’d’ve liked to, “No, keep going.” He let his eyes fluttered closed as Bill picked up the pace, but not to much so that it was a rough as before. It was calm, it felt like normal sex, and he felt Bill plant tiny kisses over his cheeks and bridge of his nose.

It was when Bill wrapped his hand back around Stan’s cock that he realized that he was close, really close, to cumming.

“I’m gonna-,” He started, and then thought better of himself, “Can I-?”

He barely got the words out of his mouth before Bill was nodding feverently, “Yes, baby, c’mon,” His hand moved faster and then Stan was moaning with relief and cumming over Bill’s hand, feeling his breath leave his lungs and re-enter in shallow pants.

Bill pulled out of him slowly, Stan grimacing at the uncomfortable feeling, and then taking his legs gracefully off of Bill’s shoulders. His cheeks dusted rose as he watched Bill pump himself, and then he reached out without thinking and slowly swatted Bill’s hand away. He grabbed Bill’s dick instead and stroked him, speeding up as Bill started humming lowly, and then soon enough Bill’s cum was painting his own hand and he was being pushed back with a kiss, their noses squished together sort of oddly but not painfully.

And then Bill was walking away somewhere else in the house, disappearing into an obviously unfamiliar hallway, and Stan was left sitting confused and still naked on their makeshift table. He laid down and caught his breath a little more, revelling in the air that had cooled down without another warm body breathing hot air onto him. He figured he should have guessed he’d be left like this, a guy like Bill didn’t seem emotionally available to invite him back to sleep anywhere, let alone even see him out. He ground his teeth, how the fuck was he expected to get home? He laid there for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten or fifteen minutes, simply being angry and trying to work out how he was going to get home.

But then Bill stood above him, peering down at him with a funny smile on his face. “I started a bath and a shower,” He looked bashful, in a way, and Stan blushed again, embarrassed at his own thoughts. He felt like an asshole now. “Because I didn’t know which one you liked, um, I also, have some pajamas you can wear. They’re my clothes, obviously, but…”

Stan smiled softly and lifted himself up, Bill holding his hands as he hopped down and his feet padded on the dark rug.

“You have a real taste in decor,” He remarked, remembering his earlier observation. Bill chuckled, and continued to hold his hand and lead him down the hall - apparently unphased that both of them were still naked. Stan wondered why Bill didn’t just throw on some underwear while he was gone, but he didn’t really mind or care, either.

Stan slept with Bill in his bed that night, pretending he didn’t enjoy the warm embrace as much as he did.

Richie did come by the next morning, baring Mittens swaddled in a blanket in his arms. Well, less swaddled, more just completely covered.

“It was the only way I could pick him up, Eddie had to drive me here, too, because I couldn’t put him down. He’s insufferable - do you know how many little bite marks I have on my arms now from letting him sleep with me?”

Bill stood in the doorway next to Stan while they had their little exchange, and looked between Richie, Mittens (who was cuddled into Stan’s arms lovingly now), Stan, and then back to Richie. “So you brought it here?” He deadpanned, eyebrows turned up at Richie.

“Mister Mittens is an  _angel_ ,” Stan defended, holding the fluffy animal under his front paws and up in the air. Mittens didn’t protest. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Stan cooed, “You would never hurt anyone!” He pulled the cat back down to his face and Mittens happily nuzzled his cheek against Stan’s.

“Bill, could you give us a minute?” Richie requested, giving Bill the same deadpan look he gave Richie before, but mixed with a little more unease.

Bill nodded and went to turn away, but he was summoned back by Stan’s, “Wait!”, and then thrusting Mittens into his arms.

Bill gave the cat a wide-eyed and somewhat confused look, but carried him away anyway, and Stan stepped out onto the porch after watching with a soft smile.

“You like him,” Richie squinted, and devilish smile playing on his features.

Stan turned up his nose. “Maybe,” He admitted, “So what if I do?”

Richie sighed and dropped his playfulness for a moment. “It’s in everyone’s best interest if that’s the case,” He began, “For starters, he’s painfully lonely, not even painful in the way that he’s asking to be around people all the time. He closes himself off constantly, and he gets in these moods where he gets super bitchy,” Richie shook his head. “Last night was weird for a lot of reasons, but just having you around for that little bit, it was like he was a different person. And I think that’s a good thing, you know?”

Stan nodded and prodded Richie to continue.

“Second thing,” He went on, “He’s not going to let you go whether you like him or not,” He laughed uneasily. “So it’s better if you do, less work for both of you and me if that’s the case. There are things you don’t know about him yet that- that I don’t even know, but I think he might tell you.” Richie sighed again.

Stan licked his lips and waited for the last bit of his spiel.

“Last night was weird for me because you’re my best friend and he’s- he’s my boss, I guess. And I wanted to make sure you felt safe, though I know you wanted to fucking kill me,” He gave a little laugh again, “I know it might seem like it, but he’s not a bad guy, Stan, really,” His seriousness returned, “It’ll be super weird for me, still, but I think you should give him a chance. Maybe not around me, but-,”

Stan rolled his eyes and gave Richie a half smile, and Richie returned it in full. Stan turned around and opened the front door back up a little bit, and spied on Bill through the crack in it. He smiled as he saw Mittens still curled in his arms, Bill gently scratching him behind the ears where Stan knew Mittens liked, and then smoothing down his long fur gently. Stan bit back a smile and took a deep breath to stop his heart from fluttering more than it was. This was ridiculous, he felt like a child.

“Okay,” Stan agreed, maybe a little too willingly, but he didn’t care. “And, yeah, I like him.”

“Good,” Richie nodded, and Stan opened the door the rest of the way, the two filing back in. Bill looked up from petting the cat but his hands still brushed, and Stan watched Mittens snuggle into Bill’s fingertips before meeting his eyes.

“Richie,” Stan began, tone joking, “I think Mittens likes Bill more than you.”

“Good,” Richie scoffed, “He can keep him.”

 _Sure,_  Stan agreed silently, walking over to pet him himself, _he can._


	2. stan gets jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (read notes before this) so this one in particular i dont rlly have a place for? its probably a few months after they've gotten together uwu like five or six maybe. this is...pretty much plotless smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this probably seems kind of weird, i just didn't want to make a whole seperate thing for this and make it a series when i could just put them all as diff chapters of the same fic. it is sort of necessary to know the first part anyway, but basically what i'm doing is posting a bunch of little things i wrote for rockstar (this has all been very self-indulgent and wonderful - and yes i will be writing another 12k or so of drug kingpin bill and stan so be on the lookout for that). they're not at all chronological tho so sldjhgksdjghd. ill try to describe the point in their relationship that it's happening in, tho, so there isn't any confusion ALSO it's probably relevant to mention that in my,,original doc,,, i had stan calling bill daddy and im not sorry about it so he calls him daddy here (i changed it to sir for tumblr bc people get upset on there but im just. warning u now. if u dont like it dont read it and i can mod the comment section so :))

“Do you thhh-think I should be a pimp?” Bill mused, his voice soft and close to Stan’s ear. Stan looked up to him from where he was tucked into his arm in their bed. 

“No,” Stan’s laugh bubbled, “You get attached way too easily to be a pimp.” 

“I do not,” Bill defended, “Can you roll one?” He nodded to the scale and assortment of tools on the desk across from their bed. Stan hummed a positive and crawled out of bed, as was customary. Bill liked to smoke after he came, always, Stan had come to know. Well, on the condition that he wasn’t high already. 

“You do so,” Stan continued with an eye-roll, silk robe flowing after him and delicately hitting the back of his calves as he walked. “You tell everyone we were love at first sight, for fuck’s sake. You’re a sap, babe.” He pulled a blunt wrap out of its packaging and then took to the ziplock of weed Bill kept. “How much?” 

“Hmm,” Bill’s voice resonated thoughtfully from behind Stan as he pondered, “Put three in. And I only tell people that because it’s true.” Stan could hear the smirk in his voice.

He went about weighing out three grams, he’d gotten quite used to this (and pretty good at it, in his own opinion). “I wanted you dead when we first met,” He half-laughed. It was the truth, but he couldn’t help but think now that it had been fate he’d run after Richie and wound up in Bill’s office. 

“You wanted me in your ass and you know it,” Bill retorted, and Stan could hear the joking tone in his voice and rolled his eyes again, a smile on his lips. “You thh-hought I was a daddy for sure, there’s no denying it, princess.” 

Stan finished wrapping the blunt and lifted it to lick it closed one more time before being sure it would stay. He simply looked at Bill gave him a mock-sneer. 

“That doesn’t sound like a no,” Bill practically sing-songed, and Stan walked back to the bed and presented him with the blunt and a lighter. Bill examined his handiwork with exaggeration. “You’re getting too good at all of this, maybe we should pimp you out.” He teased, biting the front little bit of his tongue between his teeth with a wide smile.

“You’re too jealous for that,” Stan hummed and contentedly snuggled back into Bill’s side. His bare chest was warm, and Stan traced over one of the tattoos on his side gently with his finger. It was his favorite of Bill’s so far - a paper boat inscripted with  _ S.S Georgie _ . “I wouldn’t like that, anyway.”

He felt Bill’s body rumble under him as the chuckle reverberated from his throat. “I’m not  _ jealous _ ,” He corrected, “Jealous would imply someone else has sss-something I want. Daddy’s simply not willing to share what he already has.” 

“So, jealous,” Stan deadpanned, listening to the lighter click as Bill lit it. 

“Fine, maybe you make me jealous,” Bill gave in. Stan kissed his side chastely. 

“It’s not like you don’t do the same,” He scoffed, “I don’t ever want to have to share you, either.” His eyebrows furrowed, and Bill glanced at him and laughed. 

“Since when? I’ve never seen you jealous over me, nobody ever hits on me. I thh-hink you scare them, sweetheart.” 

“Yes you have,” Stan defended, nose crinkling as he began to explain. 

_ Stan didn’t like her from the second she walked in. She wore red stilettos that looked like they were a size too small for her meat-feet, and a sparkling red dress that sprinkled all the light around the room around her. Stan thought it was tacky.  _

_ Her bleached blonde hair fell in ringlets around her boobs, accentuating cleavage that she clearly wasn’t making any effort to cover up. Stan could tell she was wearing extensions, and made a comment in his head that maybe she was enough plastic to classify as a living barbie doll. _

_ Maybe he would’ve been nicer if the first thing she’d done when she sat down across from himself and Bill (he sat in Bill’s lap for his meetings always, as they were a team, inseparable) wasn’t purr, “Hello, Mister Denbrough.”  _

_ It only enraged him even more that Bill didn’t seem to notice anything strange.  _

_ “Evening, Diamond,” Bill greeted in a way that he was almost flirting back with her. Stan grit his teeth but stayed still and didn’t speak, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking he was happy to meet her. He’d be happy to show her the door and kick her silicone ass on the way out.  _

_ Bill sat with one hand splayed out on his desk and one on Stan’s hip - as he’d been writing something down just beforehand, and  _ Diamond  _ took this opportunity to run her taloned-finger from his elbow down his forearm in an attempt to be seductive. Could she not  _ fucking  _ see that he was right here? _

_ “It’s always so nice to see you, Bill, and with another cute little piece, too?” She looked at him finally, and he kept his mouth from falling open in shock at the insult. “Adorable. So about this deal-,”  _

_ And Bill said nothing to defend him? He was going to hear about that later, Stan promised himself, but for now… _

_ Stan ground his ass into Bill’s dick, not even attempting to seem as if he were merely trying to get comfortable. He bit back a smirk when Bill’s right hand flew to his other side and guided his hips through the movement again.  _

_ “I’m not here to play games, Diamond-,” He began, voice smooth but hard. Stan felt his boner growing under his ass while he circled his hips and smirked, not stopping.  _

_ “Oh, Bill, baby, I’m not either,” She cut him off, batting her eyes. Stan’s frown deepened, if that were possible. Only  _ he _ was allowed to call Bill ‘baby’. “I know you need this supply, and you know the only way I’m going to give it to you.”  _

_ “We don’t need you, you know,” Stan hissed, finally speaking.  _

_ “Aw, the pet talks! This one’s charming, really, Bill.”  _

_ “You and I were a one time thing over a year ago, you need to let it go,” Bill voice was angry behind him, and Stan smirked, spinning so he was facing Bill and dropping to his knees ceremoniously.  _

_ “I think she’s jealous of me, Daddy,” He licked his lips, wasting no time pulling Bill’s cock from his pants and licking a stripe up the underside. Bill hummed in agreement. _

_ “As if I’d be jealous of you or your gangly little twink, Denbrough.” She tried to scoff, but Stan caught the waver of insecurity in her voice.  _

_ “Then why don’t you stay and watch?” Bill smiled sarcastically and snapped his fingers, and there was noise of the doors being blocked from the outside. “Have a seat, Princess here loves an audience. Isn’t that right, baby?” _

_ But Stan was too busy trying to take Bill down his throat.  _

_ “Amateur,” She scoffed again, and Stan pulled off of Bill to reply.  _

_ “Like tit-fucking him with those plastic water jugs could possibly beat me?” He was livid, and turned swiftly to pull the lube from top drawer on the left side of Bill’s desk. They kept it there for occasions like these. “What do you think, Daddy?” He asked, climbing onto Bill’s lap now, straddling him. _

_ “Mhmm, princess…” Was all Bill managed to answer, apparently busy bunching Stan’s dress up around his waist, meanwhile Stan stroked him with a palmful of lube.  _

_ Tactfully, as he scooted forward on Bill, he swiftly reached around to his pocket and whipped out the pistol he knew Bill kept tucked there. He threw his arm back and pointed it right at her - she looked taken aback now. Maybe even threatened. Stan liked it.  _

_ “No prep? Babe-,” Bill started, voice lowered to a whisper. Stan rolled his eyes, but knew Bill was right. It would not be a good idea to go into this without prep, he might actually hurt himself.  _

_ “Finger me, then,” He replied, and Bill was eager to oblige, quickly taking the lube bottle and reaching under Stan.  _

_ They stretched as quickly as possible to three fingers, and Stan was already whimpering - only increasing to moans when Bill was sliding in finally.  _

_ “So did you ride him, or did he have to fuck you?” Stan asked rhetorically, question aimed behind him, “I bet you didn’t even know he likes to be ridden.”  _

_ “Only the way you do it, baby,” Bill held Stan’s hips hard while they began rising up and down. He forced the rest of Stan’s dress up and over his head - obstructing his aim for a moment. He kissed the soft, pale skin of Stan’s chest, on the remains of lovebites left from recent affairs.  _

_ “Uh-uh,” Stan hummed a negative, “What am I, Daddy? Tell her, make sure she knows my place.”  _

_ The shrill voice almost cut in, but Bill was moaning before she could even begin. “My princess, my treasure,” He groaned, “Daddy’s  _ only _ princess.”  _

_ “I’m leaving, this is… disgusting. Let me leave, Denbrough.” Stan could hear her eye-roll, and pulled Bill forward into a kiss, sealing it with a smirk knowing he’d won.  _

_ Bill snapped immediately, and Stan listened to her heels click out. His bounces slowed and he pouted.  _

_ “I had a good line about you cumming in me that I was gonna use,” He whined.  _

_ Bill didn’t answer, just needily pulled Stan forward again - not even close to finished with him for the night, as Stan were to find out later.  _

“I jack off to those thoughts,” Bill confessed easily, unashamed, and Stan was brought back from his story to the present. 

“I blow you every ten minutes, you horny fuck,” Stan laughed, “When do you even have the time to masturbate?” 

“When I’m away and my princess isn’t there to help me,” Bill smiled down at him almost innocently. “But ss-speaking of…”

“Again?” Stan groaned, getting back up on his knees.

“Stop being so huh-hhhot and then  _ maybe _ we won’t have this problem!” 


	3. let's have kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bill and stan talk about having kids. they've been together for a few years now, they're married, it's well after stan's accident, stan doesn't call bill daddy anymore bc that would be weird if they were having kids and he was still on that (all good things must come to an end), (more to come on stan's accident later-), no smut just uwu husbands being in love and i guess. kind of angsty? but not angst

The TV volume was low, almost muted, as the light illuminated on Stan’s near sleeping face. Bill fiddled with his husband’s wedding ring on the hand draped unceremoniously over his abdomen. 

“Baby?” He started, “Are you still awake?” His voice was barely above a whisper, because if Stan was asleep Bill was not going to be one to wake his precious angel. 

“Mhm,” Stan mumbled, pulling his eyes open and Bill could tell he was tired. His cheek stuck to Bill’s shoulder, and Bill looked away from the hand on his stomach and over to his love. 

“I’ve been thhh-thinking,” He treaded carefully, knowing it probably wasn’t the best time to bring this up; but simultaneously it was. He couldn’t help himself as it neared the unholy hours of the morning, thoughts that kept him wide awake suddenly spilling from his lips. “I want to have kids.” 

A small smile graced Stan’s lips and he gave a breathy chuckle. “Seems kind of random, don’t you think?” His words were murmured and almost slurred, and Bill could see clearly that he was too sleepy to think clearly, but that was alright. They didn’t need to come to an answer tonight, Bill just hoped for soon. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Bill blinked and frowned a bit, “We’ve been married for a little over a year now, and I don’t think we’ll ever not be thh-th-this way. I feel like we will for- for forever, I guess. And I’ve always daydreamed about our kids, to be honest-,”

Stan’s soft fingertips moved from Bill’s stomach over to his chest and back again in a soothing, repetitive motion. “I don’t know,” He confessed. Bill frowned - he’d thought, until now, that they’d been on the same page. He knew Stan wasn’t all there just now, he knew half of Stan was far back in his mind already asleep, maybe his most logical half, but Stan was all logic and always. That was half the reason Bill needed him. 

“Oh,” Bill licked his lips, trying to hide his disappointment, “Thhhat’s okay, I just thuh-thh-thought-,” 

Stan seemed startled, and his eyes opened wider and he almost sat up. He moved his head forward a bit. “Wait, wait, not I don’t know if I want to be with you forever or have kids with you, that’s not what I meant,” His gentle touch that mirrored his voice travelled from Bill’s chest to his cheek, tracing a thumb over his cheekbone. He sighed and Bill noted this seemed to have really woken him up. “I almost died barely two years ago. The way we live, it’s just- do you think we’d be fit to raise kids?” Stan laughed almost bitterly. Bill frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. 

“I don’t know,” He answered, and saw his husband’s point. “I could- I could drop this, and get a real job! Th-th-though that would be difficult to do now, I guess… People are gonna target us no mah-hatter what, aren’t they?” His humor was bitter. He half wished he could start a normal life, and half wished this wasn’t even his in the first place. It wasn’t fair; he had the  _ almost _ perfect life. He was young, and he was rich, and he had the most perfect husband on the planet. The last one came with it’s up and downs, but wearing bulletproof vests and having to never take your eyes off of someone that you didn’t ever want to take your eyes off regardless anyway wasn’t so bad. All he wanted to complete it was one or maybe two or even three perfect kids, for the perfect family, and he would feel complete.

Stan turned his head and kissed his shoulder. “I think so,” He admitted with a bittersweet smile, “I would love to have kids with you, Bill, seriously,” Stan gave him a sincere look. “There’s nothing in the world I would love more than to start a family with you - but I don’t think we could keep them safe.” 

“We can try our damned hardest,” Bill huffed and looked to the ceiling, irritated with the situation. 

Stan rubbed his bicep and Bill sighed, looking at him again. The wedding band was cool against his skin, and he almost smiled like he did whenever he felt it the familiar metal against him - but instead he just lifted his frown. “What if our hardest isn’t enough?” Stan looked distraught. “You lost your brother going on six years ago, you almost lost me two years ago,” He inhaled a big breath of air, “Do we want to risk anymore lives? Especially if those lives are going to be our kids.” 

He had a good point. 

“Isn’t it worth-th-th’it?” He pressed, eyes still trained on the ceiling. “We could make it work,” He babbled, trying to think of quick solutions, “We could- we could homeschool them, or sss-suh-humm-thing. And- I don’t know,” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I guess a lot of it would be up to you, being home more than I am.”

Stan frowned. “You’d have to be home more. Not that you aren’t, but if we do this, I want my kids to grow up with two very present parents. You’d have to slow down.” He seemed very adamant about this, and Bill took this to be genuinely considering his suggestion. He grabbed Stan’s hand and kissed each of his knuckles chastely, trying his best to seal the deal. 

“Anything,” Bill promised, “You just heard me say I would quit this all completely if it meant us hah-having a family. I would do  _ anything _ , Stan.” 

Stan buried his face into Bill’s arm. “I just,” He exhaled, and Bill felt his breath warm on his skin, “Think it’s selfish to throw other lives into our own. I don’t entertain the thought of a happy family with healthy,  _ safe _ kids because I don’t want to let myself down. We’re fucked up, Bill,” It was here Bill heard the catch in Stan’s voice, and realized he was getting choked up as he continued, voice breaking. “We’re not normal, and we’ll never be normal.” He rolled over then, away from Bill, and Bill turned his head to see Stan look up at the ceiling himself before pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes like he often did when he cried. 

Bill licked his lips. “Is that what you want?” He swallowed, not asking with any particular emotion. He knew he couldn’t give Stan normal if he tried. 

“No,” Stan whined, and took his hands away from his face in a slow, dragging motion, “I used to think that’s what I wanted, but it’s not. That’s not us, and I want us.” 

Bill almost smiled. Stan had a way of talking about things that never made their life seem like it was his fault that it was the way it was. He felt that was true, though, and he flashed back to all the times Stan nearly got hurt or  _ actually _ got hurt. All the times he would never really forgive himself for no matter how many times Stan insisted it wasn’t his fault, but at the same time remained too selfish to ever give Stan up for his own good. It’s not like Stan would go if he told him to, anyway. So selfish that he wanted to put  _ children  _ in the same danger. 

He rolled over onto Stan, planting his knees on either side of his husbands waist and taking Stan’s hands in his own. Their fingers entwined against the sheets and he ducked down to plant kisses onto the other man’s face. 

“Thhh-hen let’s do something not normal,” He said, nuzzling his nose into Stan’s cheek, feeling hair tickle his own. “I thh-think we could keep them safe if we really tried. We’ve been safe for a while. We don’t have to have  _ babies _ ,” He thought out loud, “We have Mittens for th-th-that,” He chuckled, and Stan smiled quaintly - he felt it push into the man’s cheek. “What’s a good age? Eight or nine, maybe?” He took his face away from Stan’s to look at him, blue light from the TV flashing around them and their shadows. 

“I’m tired, Bill,” He mumbled, smiling lazily, and Bill watched his eyes droop. He peppered his face with tiny kisses. 

“Say yes, then,” Bill swallowed, a little hopeful smile occuring on the surface of his own, and he finally caught Stan’s lips between his, continuing to mumble against them. “Say we’ll start a family, Stan,  _ please _ .” 

He felt Stan smile against his lips. “Okay, okay,” He pushes up into Bill’s mouth and then back again. “We’ll start a family.”

Bill pushes back down for a longer kiss, feeling butterflies of excitement in his stomach that Stan still never failed to ignite. “I love you,” He told him as he pulled away. 

Stan wriggled his hands out of Bill’s grip, and instead put them on either of his face. “I love you, too.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> really early on in their relationship. probably only a month or a couple months in uwu babies

Stan was grumpy. He’d been grumpy all day, and all of the day before, and the two days before that - not to mention sexually frustrated. 

He’d had to wake up alone in a king sized bed, colder than usual without Bill’s warm limbs tangled with his own. He’d had to make breakfast by himself, no arms wrapping around his waist while he made his coffee and no lips humming into the crook of his neck, because there was no Bill to bury his head there. 

He knew Bill didn’t like him to touch himself without permission, especially when Bill was away on business, but as he stood by the counter and stirred his coffee, spoon clinking against the glass of his favorite mug, he considered that this might be an exception. When you went at it like rabbits, as he’d bashfully admit they did any other time, it was hard to suddenly just stop, and now he was four days celibate and missing Bill in more than just a couple ways. 

He bit his lip. Bill didn’t like Stan to cum without him, and he knew this, but regardless he entertained the thought of the toys Bill bought for him that rested in his third dresser drawer. Even the stupid one that he bought shaped like his own dick, but Stan would also be lying if he said he didn’t like it. It didn’t compare to the real deal, but it was close enough. 

And it would have to do, he decided, sipping the remains of his coffee and making his way back to their room sleepily, discarding items of clothing in the hallway lazily and promising he would pick them up later. 

He went to the drawer and pulled out his toys of choice: a small blue vibrator, Bill’s stupid custom dildo, and that lube that smelled like strawberries. Bill liked that one, and now the scent reminded him of their sex. He stripped fully and went to the bed, already nearly hard just at the prospect of doing this. He felt jittery in a way, doing something he knew he shouldn’t, it provided him with the same type of feeling Bill gave him. 

And then he had an even better idea. 

He picked up his phone and got on the bed while it rang, uncapping the lube and thrusting his ass in the air. 

“Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” Bill greeted him lovingly from the other line. 

He rubbed a lubed finger around his hole in circles before pushing it in, feeling relief at just the little bit of pleasure. “Good morning, Daddy,” He purred, fucking a digit in and out of himself, not bothering to try to cover up the sound the lube made. He hummed. “Not so great, I never do when you’re not with me.” He probably would’ve pouted if he wasn’t so focused on adding another finger.

Bill was quiet for a moment, and Stan’s breathing hitched every now and then as he imagined Bill’s fingers working him instead of his own. 

“If I didn’t know any better, princess,” Bill’s voice was hard on the other line as he hummed with discontent, “I’d say it sounded like you were masturbating.” Stan put the phone on speaker and dropped it to the sheets, using his newly free hand to teasingly stroke his own cock. “But what did we say about that?” Bill finished. 

“No touching myself when Daddy isn’t home to watch,” Stan repeated desperately, rubbing his thumb over his tip and nearly bucking into his own hand. He let go, deciding instead to simply stick to his fingers for now, starving himself off. 

“And what are you doing?” The voice on the other end was hard and Bill was very clearly displeased, but Stan recognized the familiar drop in octave that indicated he was turned on.

“Fingering myself,” He confessed, moaning as he grazed his prostate and testing himself with the tip of a third digit.

“How many?” Bill asked, voice mischievous, and Stan was almost caught off-guard, expecting Bill to react by telling him to stop immediately. He was sure if Bill was actually there he’d be ass up and counting out his own spanks by now. 

“Three,” Stan whimpered and pushed in the third fully, feeling himself stretch to take it. 

Bill hummed. “You know how I spread my fingers out when I finger you?” He asked, voice sexy and low, Stan wished nothing more than to hear it in his ear. “Do that, baby. Scissor them. Stretch yourself just like I would.”

Stan did so, spreading his fingers inside of himself, pushing against his walls and moaning lightly over the slight pain. 

“Now stop,” Bill instructed. Stan obeyed by second nature, hand halting its movements as soon as the words travelled through the receiver. He knew what Bill wanted. 

“Please, Daddy, please let me keep fucking myself,” He begged, waiting for the green light to pleasure himself again. “I miss your cock, I need- I need to be fucked-,” 

“Take your fingers out,” He interrupted, and Stan whined loudly. 

“No, no, I’ll be good,” He bargained, itching to wrap his hand around himself again now, “Tell me what to do, I’ll be good, fuck,  _ please _ .” 

“Will you?” Bill’s voice was questioning and Stan could practically see him raising his eyebrow. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Stan interrupted, but was cut of quickly by Bill again.

“Then take your fingers out. I’m not going to say it again, cupcake,” His voice was daring now, and Stan could see him smirking in his head. 

“Yes, Daddy,” He whimpered as he pulled out of himself.

“Do you have toys with you?” Bill asked, and now that Stan had nothing else to focus on, he heard the background noise from his phone. “Yeah, large with light cream, two sugars,” He heard Bill’s muffled voice order coffee. He wasn’t surprised that Bill would do this in public (The man had no shame, really, and it kind of turned Stan on. Okay, it really turned Stan on.) and continued with what they were doing. 

“Yes,” He examined the couple of toys he set beside himself earlier.

“Which ones? Thank you,” Bill asked again, the last part not to him, and Stan envisioned him taking his coffee. 

“My blue vibrator, and, uh,” He felt blood rush to his cheeks and he probably would’ve ducked his face away if Bill were there, “The one you had made.” 

Bill chuckled and followed it up with a hum, and then, “I’m afraid I don’t know which one you’re talking about.” 

“Your stupid custom made replica dildo,” Stan grumbled, knowing Bill would tease him for this. 

“Stupid? Okay, well, if you  _ don’t _ want-,” 

“No, no!” Stan saved, voice going high for just a moment, “It’s not stupid, I want to keep going.” 

Bill chuckled again. “I don’t think I’ve had you this desperate before, princess,” Stan heard him sip his drink, “Tell Daddy why you picked that one,” He teased, and Stan was sure he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Stan say it.

Stan squirmed under Bill’s attention even without him being there. “Feels the closest to you as possible,” He mumbled, “Stretches me out almost as good as you, it’s almost as good as you.”

“Almost?” 

Stan was spitting out the list before he could even process anything else, running his fingers over the dildo. “Doesn’t spank me, or choke me, or fuck me when I’m begging to stop,” His dick twitched his in pants thinking about Bill doing all of those in the past. “Doesn’t cum in me or in my mouth or on my face,” He whined. 

Bill hummed and Stan felt like he was in pain from how badly he wished to go back to pleasuring himself. “You really miss my cock, hmm?”

“Yes, Daddy, yes,” Stan forced quickly, feeling more desperate, “Can I  _ please _ -,” 

“Put the vibrator in on high,” Bill cut him off, and Stan obeyed happily, glad to have any contact, and heard Richie’s voice in the background while he lubed up the vibrator. 

“Are you-? Oh my god, you’re fucking- You can’t do that in your fucking hotel room?” Richie exclaimed, and Bill laughed. 

“Where do you think I’m going?” He replied easily, and Stan stalled just to listen to the conversation. 

“Good, jesus fuck, you’re so disgusting. STAN!” He yelled, and he sounded even clearer, “IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, YOUR BOYFRIEND’S NASTY! AND- AND YOU ARE, TOO!” 

Stan let a laugh escape his throat. “Oh, I  _ know _ .” 

“I don’t hear any moans, princess,” Bill goaded, and Stan was quick to push the vibrator into himself, letting a moan escape as he turned it on high like Bill told him to. 

He heard a key shove into a door and then it open and close while he let out little whimpers and moans and fucked himself on the small device. 

“Turn it on low,” Bill’s voice instructed lowly, “Fuck yourself nice and slow with it- on second thought, get your laptop,” He seemed to think better of the situation, “Daddy’s going to watch one way or another.” 

Stan knew what that meant, and he pulled the toy out of himself with a grimace and then reached for the macbook that sat on his bedside table. He propped it up and sat in front of it, opening skype, and before he knew it the phone was hung up with three beeps and his larger device was ringing in front of him with  _ Incoming call from Bill Denbrough _ displayed on the notification. He clicked the answer button quickly, and then grabbed back for the vibrator and lube while the picture loaded. 

“Hello to you, too,” Bill chuckled and brought Stan’s attention back to the screen, and he groaned at Stan’s face. He caught a glimpse of it himself, and he looked like a mess - there were red blotches over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, his lips were wet and red and plump from biting, and his hair already stuck up in different directions, probably because he hadn’t had the chance to pat it down after waking up. 

He looked at Bill, who was on his own laptop as well, judging from the angle. He sat cross legged on an unfamiliar bed, looking perfect as usual, arms behind him supporting his body, and the pièce de résistance: a bulge in his black skinny jeans. 

“Hi, Daddy,” Stan greeted, a little bashful now at the sudden audience, but at the same time the thought of Bill watching him make a complete wreck of himself spurred him on further. 

He watched one of Bill’s hands move to his crotch, palming at himself while he spoke. “Don’t get bashful with me now, baby,” He nearly laughed, “You look like you were having a good time making a slutty little mess of yourself. Don’t let me stop you,” He smirked, and Stan felt his dick press against his lower stomach needily, aching to be touched, but he didn’t want to just yet. He changed his position, going from kneeling to all fours again, leaning on his elbows, and brought forth the dildo.

He put the tip close to his mouth and kitten licked it once, then let his lips ghost around it while he spoke. “Yes, Daddy, I-,”

“Did I say you could fucking have that, yet?” Bill growled, his tone changing easily. Stan pressed further, teasingly taking the tip of it into his mouth and then out again before responding. 

“Take your cock out for me, Daddy,” He purred, ignoring Bill’s question, “You’re gonna jerk off for me, aren’t you? Pretend it’s me?” He reached down and barely ghosted his hand over his cock in small strokes, hissing once as he did so. “I wanna watch.” 

“Not while you’re being so fucking bad,” Bill growled again, and it was unquestionable that Stan would be getting it when he got home, but for now, he continued. 

“Show me, Daddy,” He leaned back so that the hand that was slowly rubbing himself off would be on full display, bargaining, “Don’t I look pretty? Don’t you wanna show me how bad you wish I was there,” Stan moaned, “With my lips around your big, hard cock?” He taunted easily, Bill smirking and biting his lip. 

“Listen to you, princess,” He chuckled, almost sounding impressed, “I’ve taught you well, huh?” His demeanor changed as Stan watched him undo his belt and then his button and then his zipper, stretching out his legs and tugging his jeans off completely. He palmed at himself in his boxers for a moment, “And yes, darling, you look very pretty, you always do-,” 

“Shirt, too,” Stan murmured, far too entranced with the small show Bill made of taking his pants off. His eyes never left Bill’s torso, wishing to see the muscles move as he did. “Please.”

Bill discarded his shirt in seconds, unquestioning, and finished his sentence. “You always do, but I’m afraid I can’t do anything until you decide to be good for me, like you promised.” 

Stan took his hand off of his dick immediately, it hitting his lower stomach again with how hard he was. “I’ll be good,” He almost whispered getting back onto his hands and knees, “Tell me what to do, Daddy, please,” He sputtered what he knew Bill wanted to hear in effort to get what he wanted, “I’ll behave.” 

“Good boy,” Bill ran his tongue over his teeth and Stan almost drooled over the way his biceps looked while he teased himself over the thin fabric of his boxers. “Turn around so I can see that tight little ass, I want to watch you start over.” 

A whine escaped the back of Stan’s throat as he turned, wanting to complain about already being stretched, but holding it back. He lubed two fingers instead, aligning them with his hole, but Bill stopped him before he could push in. 

“One at a fucking time,  _ slut _ ,” Bill snapped from behind him, Stan whimpering as he slid in only his middle finger. “You know better, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I’m sorry, Daddy,” He muttered, wishing to feel more inside of himself as he fucked himself back on his finger, clenching on it and trying to get more friction.

Bill groaned, and Stan wished he could see him, know if he was jacking off yet. “Fuck, princess, add another finger, you’re so ready for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Fuck, yes,” Stan panted, adding the second digit and feeling a little better, “I want you to fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to walk for days, Daddy, I want it to  _ hurt _ .” He thrusted in and out of himself fast, desperate for more.

“Shit,” Bill swore, “Fuck this, get the fucking dildo lubed up, baby.” 

Stan couldn’t move fast enough, it seemed, grabbing it and quickly slathering it with lots of lube.

“Turn around, too, I wanna see that beautiful face,” Bill groaned, and Stan turned to find him shimmying his boxers off and tossing them off the side of the bed. “Ride it, match my pace,” Bill instructed, and Stan waited with his lower lip caught between his teeth as he nodded. Bill held himself at his base, “ _ Say it _ ,” He commanded through clenched teeth, eyes glued to his screen all the while.

“Yes, Daddy,” Stan whined, pressing the head of the dildo needily up against himself, anxious to have it inside him already. 

He could’ve cried with relief when Bill removed his hand to stroke himself from top to bottom, sliding the dildo into himself and trying to force himself to stretch to take it. He hissed with the pain that accompanied it, stopping and screwing his eyes shut. 

“Open your eyes,” Bill nearly barked. Stan did, and noted that he was holding his cock around the middle, where Stan had only pushed in halfway. “I thought you wanted it to hurt?” His eyes were dark, and though Stan could hear the care behind his words, he’d slipped beyond a careful persona and into the one that wanted to fuck Stan into oblivion. 

“I do,” Stan cried out and fucked the dildo up into himself more, “I want- I want-,” He struggled for words to continue, mind automatically focusing on trying to relax around the object. 

“Go slow, not all the way in, just like Daddy fucks you,” Bill prodded, moving his own hand agonizingly slowly up and down the upper half of his cock. 

Stan tried to match his pace, reduced to little moans of pain and pleasure as he adjusted to size, clenching around it when any particular thrust was good. “Can I have more, Daddy?” He was whining soon, and looked up to Bill’s face. He was watching Stan and grunting lowly, and didn’t even answer as he stroked more of himself, keeping his same slow pace. It only served to remind Stan that what he really wanted was for his boyfriend to be behind him, holding his wrists back and fucking him mercilessly into the mattress, but he would take what he could get for now. 

Bill seemed to want what he did, as he sped up his hand to their soundtrack of moans, Stan fucking himself faster. 

“ _ Fuuuuuck _ ,” Bill moaned, throwing his head back for only a minute, “I’m never going away without you again, princess.” 

“Why, Daddy?” Stan babbled, words flowing off of his tongue before he even stopped to think about them, “You miss me bouncing on you? Fucking myself on your cock? Miss how tight I am; wanna pull my hair and spank my ass all red? Hmm?” 

“Mmm,” Bill sped his hand up to a pace Stan couldn’t keep up with, as he was already going pretty fast, “I can’t wait to fuck that naughty mouth when I get home. You’re fucking in for it, princess.”

“Can’t wait,” Stan taunted back, “Nothing fucks me as good as you do.” 

Bill’s lip bite changed quickly to an evil smirk and he relaxed his pace in the same second, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Jerk off for me, and fuck yourself slow,” He purred, Stan obeying more than willingly, hand flying to his cock. 

He pumped up and down, screwing his wrist and flicking it, almost thrusting into it while feeling the dildo stretch him still. He was a disaster in moments, and watched Bill speed up, getting off on the sight of Stan falling apart. 

“Ah, ah-huh,” Stan moaned to his laptop’s camera, feeling himself closer to cumming with every sloppy thrust to his prostate and jerk of his hand, “Daddy, I- Please, can I cum? Please, please, I’ve been so good, please let me cum-,”

“No,” Bill said simply, “You’ve been selfish.”

Stan let out a long whine, letting go off himself in effort to hold off. 

“Did I say to stop?” 

“No, Daddy,” He squirmed, grabbing his cock again and stroking it much slower. 

“Faster, sweetheart,” Bill bit at his smirk, clearly getting pleasure from watching Stan suffer. Stan moved his hand to the pace he was just going at, moaning loud in attempt to hold off his orgasm longer.

“You look so fucking hot like that, baby, trying your hardest to obey me,” Bill hummed. 

“Will you cum for me, Daddy?” Stan preened, trying to distract himself, “Make a mess for me, please, I wanna watch you cum,” He begged, and Bill threw his head back with a long moan, and Stan knew he would get what he wanted.

“Shit, baby, you’re doing so good. Cum for Daddy, I want the fucking neighbors to hear you,” Bill praised him, and Stan let himself thrust into his own hand. He knew they didn’t have neighbors for acres, but he didn’t say anything about it, just did as Bill said, yelling for him as he came. He watched through occasionally forced open eyes as white streaks shot from Bill’s cock as well onto his abs. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” Bill panted, Stan pulling the dildo out of himself uncomfortably.

“I thought you wouldn’t be for another three days-,” He began, cut off by Bill as he laid down on the bed and simply watched his beautiful boyfriend just to watch him. He laid down too, eyes on his screen.

“Nope,” He shook his head, “I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’m  _ going _ to make good on my promise. Have fun trying to walk for the next week,” He laughed, but Stan could tell he was completely serious, and covered his face with his hands, embarrassed again now. 

“God, okay,” He mumbled into his palms, and Bill laughed again; he laughed his loud, genuine laugh. 

There was a pounding on the door in Bill’s background, and some muffled yelling. Bill frowned. 

“I’m fucking busy!” He yelled, attention taken from Stan for a moment, “ _ Yes _ , I’m talking to him….No! Fuck you!” He furrowed his eyebrows, and Stan raised his once Bill looked back to him. 

“What was that about?” He asked, and Bill leaned forward so that his face took up the majority of the camera. 

“Nothing, just Richie being a douche,” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. There was another hard knock on the door, and Bill sighed. “Duty calls.” He gave Stan an apologetic look. “I miss you so very much, princess, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” 

“Bye, Daddy,” Stan smiled softly, “I love you, too.” 

Bill waved, and then the call ended. 

Stan couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 


	5. who do you obey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tbh im not rlly sure when this would take place tbh... like, obviously they're not married yet and stan hasn't had his accident but they're also in love so. a good few months to a year in. i honestly forget the timeline i have for this universe its all just based around stan's accident and them getting married in my mind LMAO and yes i KNOW yall waiting on me to write that and i have some of it outlined but im trying to do this and 24k which i pour a lot of effort into everything i write for both so it just. takes a long ass time im sorry i hope this holds u over its 5k of jus smut uwu

The evening was pleasant. Stan mingled all night with his boyfriend’s strong arms wrapped securely around his waist, the comfort of his breath fanning lightly down onto Stan always welcome.

They’d attended a party - one of those fancier ones, not the ones Bill threw. This one was in a hotel ballroom that some other dealer had bought out for the night, and everyone dressed up, which was possibly Stan’s favorite part. He knew it was Bill’s, too, for a different reason. Stan loved to spend hours putting himself together, and he knew his lover loved spending only seconds to take him apart again.

He wore pink. It was a sleek, body-hugging light pink dress, and Bill’s hands were glued to him all night; he knew they would be the minute those bright blue eyes raked over him when he stepped out of the bathroom before leaving. He relished in every second of it.

Bill didn’t dress up as much as everyone else. He wore a white dress shirt tucked into black slacks, but that was all. He told Stan that he would go in skinny jeans and a sweatshirt if he could, and Stan rolled his eyes meanwhile fixing his collar.

“I think you look sexy like this,” He placed a kiss to Bill’s top button. “Like the first time we met.”

A strong hand was brought to hold onto his jaw firmly, but Stan didn’t flinch - if anything, he leaned into it.

“Daddy has important business tonight,” He reminded Stan, pressing a long kiss to his cheek. “No teasing in public at this party. Can you be good for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Stan breathed, nodding his head forward to capture Bill’s lips in his.

And good he was.

For the whole party, he refrained from kissing Bill in any way that couldn’t be described purely as innocent, kept from holding onto his body desperately as he did when he was, well, desperate, and didn’t even look at Bill suggestively for the party’s entirety.

Instead, he spent the night planning what would happen when they got home. After all, Bill couldn’t look that good unbuttoning the first three holes in his shirt (exposing love bites left there lazily by Stan himself mere hours prior) and not expect Stan to want to jump his bones.

He could see it then: reverently taking off that thin shirt, kissing over Bill’s abs and arms and chest, worshipping Bill’s body like Bill worshipped his. Maybe giving him a slight punishment for turning on his charm with some other man Stan was chatting with but didn’t know.

It started in the car. He toyed with Bill’s sleeve on the arm of the hand that rested on his thigh, tugging it up ever so ‘til Bill squeezed and shot him a look with the corner of his eyes, telling him not to try to get any further. Not until they got home.

So Stan didn’t. He was good, and he smirked to himself as he then simply let his fingertips graze the skin of Bill’s wrist. He indulged himself in imagining using a silk, red ribbon to tie it to the bedpost.

When they finally pulled back up to the house, Stan looked to Bill and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Bill moved his hand from Stan’s thigh to his cheek, running his thumb over his cheekbone. Stan leaned up, close into Bill’s space, and watched Bill’s own tongue trace over his lips.

“Do you wanna go inside, Daddy?” He whispered, feeling Bill’s hands shoot to his waist, seeming to try to pull him out of his seat.

“Yes, sweetheart,” He groaned, playing right into Stan’s hand.

They shot apart then, each scrambling out of his door and then coming back together at the front of the car where Bill pulled Stan in for a hungry kiss.

“You look so sexy in that dress, princess,” Bill groaned again against Stan’s lips, Stan’s fingers coming to card through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve been waiting all night just to tear it off you.”

Stan didn’t reply, only pushed his mouth up against Bill’s harder. Bill wasn’t going to be the one tearing clothing tonight, as far as Stan was concerned, and he didn’t want to give in to that notion.

They disconnected to rush to the door, it no sooner unlocked than Stan was pushed against the back of it, Bill attacking his neck with lips and teeth already.

“Bedroom,” Stan moaned, tugging Bill’s shirt out from his pants already, “Bedroom, please.”

Bill went to pick him up, but Stan slipped from his grasp quickly, scampering up the stairs and back to their room on his own.

He heard Bill chuckle behind him before following, half of his buttons undone and shirt untucked, causing it to float behind him.

Stan waited in the open space for Bill to approach, zipping down the zipper at the front of his dress, tugging the material down his body. Bill rushed forward to help it, kissing every part of Stan’s pale skin as he became increasingly exposed. He was sucking a hickey into the thigh his hand was on only so many minutes earlier as the fabric finally hit the ground. Stan tugged him up lightly with two pulls on his hair, and Bill stood, placing hands on his boyfriend’s waist and trying to work thumbs into his lingerie.

“I thought we agreed I was going to rip it off you?” Bill whispered seductively, nipping at Stan’s ear.

“We didn’t.”

Stan must have surprised him when he raised his hands and pushed on Bill’s chest, knocking him off balance and actually managing to push him on the bed.

Bill’s eyes darkened, but Stan climbed into his lap anyway. He grabbed onto Bill’s wrists and pinned them to the bed, leaning down to nip Bill’s ear in return.

“You’re playing with fire, my darling,” Bill growled, Stan feeling his muscles clench under his grip, but not refuting Stan yet.

Stan kissed down Bill’s clenched jaw, nose tracing over his jawline, ignoring his statement and grinding hip ass down into Bill’s hips instead.

“Can you be good for me, Daddy?”

“I’ve waited on you too long tonight for this, babe,” Bill chuckled darkly, and Stan could hear the dominance rising in his voice. Stan took the moment of weakness to snatch the handcuffs out of Bill’s side drawer, keeping the wrist he let go of pinned under his knee.

“I said,” Stan purred, closing one cuff around the bedpost, “Can you be good for m-,”

His breath was taken away from him in a gasp as Bill surprised him, flipping them over so Stan was held tight underneath him, wrists held so hard they might bruise.

“Do you want to fucking repeat that, princess?” Bill growled, “Ask me to be good again, and I’ll _really_ show you what it means.”

His voice was low and angry, yet Stan continued to writhe against him, wiggling his arms in effort to tug them from Bill’s grip. It was futile, but he still dissented, pushing Bill.

“Be _good_ for me, Daddy,” He whined, “I just- I just want-,”

“I don’t _care_ what you want,” Bill pressed him further into the mattress, “You listen to _me_ ; do you understand, my love? Because right now, it seems to Daddy that you don’t.”

Stan whimpered, Bill ghosting his lips over Stan’s, who tried to push up into them - causing them to be swiftly pulled away.

“I think a punishment is in order, don’t you?”

“No,” Stan shook his head swiftly, voice pleading, “No, Daddy-,”

Bill let go of his wrists suddenly, but Stan didn’t dare move as his boyfriend sat up from him. “Wrong answer, baby.”

Stan watched Bill discard his shirt, folding it over a nearby chair, and then his belt. He bit his lip upon noticing the growing bulge in his pants, but his attention was more focused on the belt being folded in half and Bill sitting with it in hand on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll give you one more chance, princess,” Bill hummed, “Do you deserve to be punished?”

“Yes,” Stan nodded, submitting at last, “Yes, Daddy, I deserve to be punished.”

Bill nodded approvingly, and motioned Stan toward himself.

He picked himself up from the bed and crawled to Bill, who waited with a stern look on his face.

“Panties off,” He demanded, and Stan stood immediately, taking off his last article of clothing. Bill patted his lap as soon as they were on the floor. “Over my lap.”

Stan didn’t really need the directions, they’d done this a million times before, but bossing Stan around was half of Bill’s fun.

Stan bent himself over Bill’s lap, and felt the cool metal of a belt buckle graze the delicate skin of his thigh as Bill grabbed his ass, belt tucked into his hand still. He hummed and rubbed his hand over it, and Stan wiggled his toes in anticipation. Bill let his hand come down once, not forcefully or enough to hurt, but enough to make Stan squirm before he spoke.

“What did Daddy tell you before we left?” Bill’s voice was full of dominance and authority, and he went back to rubbing a hand over Stan’s ass and back.

“Be good,” Stan answered, biting the inside of his cheek from the slight humiliation of it all.

“And were you?”

“No-,”

It was in that sudden moment that Bill cracked the belt down harshly onto Stan’s skin, Stan crying out in pain and Bill holding him still on his lap with a single hand. Bill gently dragged his fingers through Stan’s hair.

“This is what happens when princesses don’t behave, darling. Tell me, Stanley,” Another _crack_ from Bill’s belt and another loud yelp of pain from Stan. “What happens when naughty boys play with fire?”

“I get burned,” Stan finished, tears already welling in his eyes. Bill rubbed the belt gently over the spot he hit, and Stan imagined it was bright red already, still tingling with pain.

“Correct,” Stan practically could hear the nod of approval, and envisioned what Bill was doing behind him, only really subject to feeling it. “That was two, how many more spanks do you think you need to learn your lesson? Or should I pick for you?”

Stan’s voice was shaky in his reply. “You pick, Daddy, I’ll be good.”

Bill rubbed his hand over Stan’s ass again and hummed thoughtfully. “This perfect little ass is not nearly as red as it should be,” He remarked and Stan winced. “Ten more.”

“Ten?” Stan whined, immediately thinking better of himself when the belt smacked down on his bare skin again.

“ _Count_.” Bill demanded, teeth gritted, and there was no soothing of the wound this time before he was whipped again, another cry leaving his mouth. He instinctively tried to blink back tears so his makeup wouldn’t run. “One,” His voice broke. _Whip._ “Two!” He hissed, and there was a pause for Bill to grab at his ass again.

“Who does this belong to?” Bill asked, holding Stan hard.

“You, Daddy, it’s all yours,” Stan whimpered, and noted that tears had began to fall and drag mascara with them.

Another whip.

“Ah!” Stan forgot himself for a moment, and then, “Th-three.”

“Who do you listen to, princess? Who do you obey?”

 _Smack_.

“Four,” Stan cried, and another crack was delivered, somehow harsher than the others.

“You can count and fucking answer me, _slut_ ,” Bill growled angrily.

“You, Daddy, you,” Stan nearly sobbed, tangling fingers into the sheets, spots in little circles darkened with mascara mixed into the fabric from fallen tears. “Five…”

The soothing hand came then, rubbing gently over his ass, a nice contrast to the harsh slaps that still stung.

“You don’t know what you do to me - seeing you like this, princess,” Bill groaned. “So perfect, all for me…” Stan could practically hear Bill’s thoughts as he moaned out the words, and he felt the hard-on pressed to his belly urgently.

“Make the last ones hurt, Daddy, please,” He begged, straining to see Bill out of the corner of his eye, “I need to learn my lesson, I deserve to be punished.” He prodded, wanting Bill to get as much enjoyment from this as possible, his own cock straining against Bill’s leg.

“ _Don’t_ tell Daddy what to do. Go get the lube, and then come right back here like this.”

Stan whimpered but obeyed, resisting the urge to glimpse how red his ass was and how much ice he might need for it later. It still stung as he retrieved the lube from Bill’s bedside table and then returned to Bill’s lap, giving the lube away and laying himself across it again.

“Good baby,” Bill praised briefly, pleased with Stan and stroking his hair before grabbing for the bottle. He rubbed Stan’s ass roughly for a moment first, squeezing the flesh and opening him up a couple times. Stan noted he put the belt down beside him. “You’ve been so good for me, darling, taking your punishment so well,” He continued, and Stan listened to him squeeze lube onto his fingertips, “Do you want Daddy to touch you for a reward?”

Stan let out a whine. “I wanna touch you,” He complained, “Make you feel good.”

Bill smacked his ass hard with his dry hand, man underneath him flinching.

“That wasn’t an option,” Bill told him calmly, opening him up again and rubbing a cool, lubed finger in small circles against his entrance. “Do you want to be touched or tied up and left by yourself for an hour?”

“Touched,” Stan pleaded, trying to press himself into Bill’s fingertip. “Please, please, don’t leave me alone, Daddy.” He begged.

“Hmm,” Bill hummed, “I don’t know, I could certainly get off to knowing you’re in here alone and helplessly waiting for me-,”

“No, Daddy,” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, “I need you to touch me- now, now, please,” He begged again with more desperation. Bill chuckled behind him.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

He spit on Stan, causing him to shiver, and sunk a finger into him, causing him to let out a small noise of approval as Bill rocked his hand to thrust the finger in and out.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Stan moaned as Bill slid a second finger in, stretching him slowly.

“Do you like how Daddy’s fingers feel inside of you?” He stretched them for emphasis, scissoring them slightly in Stan, causing a surprised groan.

“I like your cock more,” He managed to get out, a little overly focused on the drag of Bill’s fingers.

Fingers were pulled out of him swiftly to land a spank to his ass and then pushed back in before Stan had time to react, but it shut him up with a moan quickly.

“That’s not what I asked,” Bill stopped to squeeze more lube onto his fingers, and then inserted a third. Stan’s eyes squeezed shut again.

“Yes, I love how your fingers feel inside me, Daddy,” He panted, Bill’s hand twisting to different angles to stretch him adequately. “I love- love fucking myself back on them, how you stretch them inside me.” He played to Bill’s hand at last, giving him the dirty talk he was trying to elicit.

Bill hummed, satisfied. “I know you do, princess.” And then there were four fingers in Stan, and he was aching to do _something_ to Bill, who still had his fucking pants on.

Stan groaned through the burn, letting it go on for another minute before whining loudly.

“It’s enough, Daddy, _please_ , let me do something to you,” He bargained, not disobeying by trying to sit up, but trying to change Bill’s mind nonetheless. “Let me suck you off, fuck my mouth, _something-_.”

“No,” Bill answered simply, removing his fingers, Stan trying to clench around nothing for a moment. “Get up.”

Stan scrambled up off of Bill, but instead of standing or getting on the bed, he dropped to his knees, throwing his hands into Bill’s lap in attempt to unbutton and unzip his pants.

“I-,” Stan barely got the chance to start before a hand came across his face, slapping him hard. He stumbled backward so his ass hit the ground, and the hand that didn’t catch his fall flew to his cheek. Tears welled in his eyes again at the pain.

“So desperate,” Bill tsked. “You’re fucking embarrassing. You learned nothing after all that, princess?” Bill stood for only a moment to tower over Stan - whose mouth moved but formed no words - only to sit back down again. “Back over my lap, you _will_ know who’s in change when I’m done with you.”

Stan blinked the tears down this time as he stood back up shakily, presenting his ass to Bill again over his legs.

The three quick and consecutive whips of the belt that followed had Stan crying out in pain, more tears falling onto the white sheets.

“I’m sorry, Daddy! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” He promised, ass stinging, likely unfathomably red.

Bill didn’t answer, delivering another round of three smacks with the belt to Stan’s ass, making him yelp again helplessly, sobbing.

“I could do worse, darling,” Bill reminded him, “This is nothing - and you’ve earned this.”

Three more smacks and Stan was shaking, eyes screwed shut, voice rawed a bit already from yelling.

“Have you learned your lesson now, my sweetheart?” Bill asked, followed by another whip that made Stan jump.

“Yuh-,” _Smack_. “Ah! Y-yes, Dah-!” _Smack_. “Daddy!”

“And what is it?”

“I listen only to Daddy, obey only Daddy,” Stan sniffled, forced completely into subservience. “Do exactly what my Daddy tells me to when he tells me to do it.”

Bill hummed approvingly, and rubbed his hand over Stan’s ass soothingly again. “Face down, ass up, edge of the bed.”

Stan complied with comparably lightning speed, getting on all fours at one edge of the bed, ass in the air as demanded and left cheek against the sheets, hands already fisted in them.

He heard Bill’s pants come off finally, and briefly mourned that he wasn’t the one do to it before there was a presence behind him, lips and hands tracing over where his ass still stung.

“You’re going to kill me for this later, my dear,” Bill chuckled quietly, “But this masterpiece is worth it.”

Stan didn't answer, only braced himself when the cap of the lube clicked open and Bill probed him with a finger, lips falling open in slight surprise, especially when two more fingers sunk in.

“Ah-ah,” Stan moaned lightly, fists tightening in the covers a little.

“So fucking tight, but such little resistance,” Bill commented, “You’ve been ready for my cock, huh, baby?”

Fingers were removed then and replaced by Bill’s dick at Stan’s entrance.

“Y-yes, Daddy,” Stan moaned, voice shaking again, wanting nothing more than to push back and get what he’d been after all night, “I want your big cock inside m- _Oh_!”

Bill quickly grabbed Stan’s hips, shocking him, and slammed roughly into him, making him jolt forward.

“What you seem to fail to understand, princess, is that this isn’t about giving you what you want, or Daddy getting what I want,” Bill explained to Stan over his cries, pace merciless, fucking into him harder than Stan thought he possibly ever had before. “This is punish-fucking,” Bill leaned down to his ear and growled. “It’s supposed to hurt so bad it feels good.”

Stan gasped before he could reply, Bill slamming into his prostate and causing even more stimulation.

“It hurts, Daddy, it hurts,” He confirmed, eyes screwed shut as he took every inch of him, and Bill rocked back into his prostate with force and likely purposefully again, making him cry out.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” Bill roughly grabbed Stan’s hair, Stan not fooled by the gentleness of the words. Once Bill was set on fucking Stan until he was absolutely destroyed, there was no changing his mind.

“Yes,” Stan hissed weakly as he felt Bill grab around him for his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts, Stan thinking he might spontaneously combust, or-

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, please,” Stan moaned, Bill still unrelenting, if anything going faster and fucking Stan onto himself harder.

“Do it and see what happens.”

The threat didn’t communicate in time to Stan, who at the first words was releasing onto his chest, filling the room with moans somewhere between “Daddy” and complete incoherence.

Bill pulled out and slapped him harshly on his ass.

“What did I fucking say?” He asked, clearly displeased.

“You said- you said I could-,” Stan fumbled, Bill grabbing him by the waist, and for a moment he was in the air, before he was dropped onto his back on the bed. Fingers came to his chin and for the first time Stan was forced to look Bill in the face. Even when forced on his back and into complete submission and vulnerability, he couldn’t help but swoon looking into his beautiful blue eyes that radiated calm in nearly every situation.

“With implied consequences, princess. Sit up, you’re gonna ride me.”

“I can’t,” Stan closed his eyes and shook his head weakly, arguing. Bill tugged on his chin and they shot open again, the man in front of him smirking.

“You can, and you will.”

He let go of Stan’s chin then, almost pushing Stan back into the mattress with the force, and Stan sat up feebly and climbed on top of Bill as he sat up against the headboard. The open cuff Stan had locked there earlier dangled over his shoulder, and Bill took it between two fingers for a moment.

“You had big plans for tonight, huh?” The question was rhetorical, and Stan hung his head into the crook of Bill’s neck while he talked. Hands came to his hips and stroked his sides comfortingly for only a moment before holding hard and grinding Stan against his cock, still slick with lube. Stan whined, grabbing at nothing on Bill’s chest. He heard Bill twirl the metal between his fingertips. “Handcuffing me to the bed would have involved riding me, sweetheart,” He chuckled lowly in Stan’s ear, not ceasing his directing of Stan’s hips - though Stan had started to contribute. “If anything, I’m giving you what you wanted.”

Stan pushed further into Bill’s neck, shaking his head. “I can’t,” He mumbled again.

“You can,” Bill’s lips grazed his boyfriend’s ear, voice husky as he grinded up into Stan’s ass.

Stan shook his head and whimpered, hands moving to grip Bill’s shoulders.  

“You will,” Bill’s hands moved to hook around Stan’s thigh, spreading his legs and positioning him back over his dick. “What are we working on, after all?”

“Obeying Daddy,” Stan answered, mumbling into Bill’s neck again, sweaty forehead falling against Bill’s skin as he sank down onto him. His lips fell open and a gasp left them, Bill groaning in approval.

Moving was hard, Stan’s ass hurt and his legs shook as he supported his own weight, even as he pulled himself up by Bill’s shoulders. Bill took the liberty of guiding him after the first few bounces, practically lifting Stan off of him and carefully bringing him back down again.

Stan’s refractory period was longer than Bill’s, and he was nowhere near hard again - so he whimpered loudly when Bill wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked him, still moving himself in and out of Stan. Stan’s breathing was labored and gasps and moans left him frequently, overcome by overstimulation, and Bill’s throat vibrated with his groans.

He was hard again by the time Bill’s face was buried in his neck and Stan’s cheek rested on Bill’s soft hair, Bill’s moans leaving his lips against the skin that he was sucking hickies into. Stan bucked his hips up into Bill’s hand with his strokes.

“Cum, princess,” He quickened his pace, jerking Stan off mercilessly. “Cum for me again.”

Stan almost told him he couldn’t again before the familiar feeling knotted itself in his lower abdomen. “Yes, Daddy, thank you, Daddy,” He whimpered.

He thrusted into Bill’s hand and took his own up to bite his fist and muffle moans as he came a second time, white streaks weakly painting his stomach again.

“Good, good,” Bill’s nose rubbed his neck as he pulled out of it, pulling Stan up and off of him all together. “Do you still want to suck Daddy off?”

Stan readjusted so he was kneeling on the bed as Bill stood, then nodded with wide eyes.

Bill brought his cock to Stan’s lips, who kitten licked the tip before Bill’s hand came onto the back of his head and pushed it forward. He only lasted a minute in Stan’s warm mouth before he was groaning and pulling Stan off, holding himself at the base to try to starve off his orgasm.

“Where do you want it?” He asked gruffly, and Stan could see the need building in his eyes as he bit his lip.

“My face, Daddy,” He answered desperately, closing his eyes and presenting it to Bill, “Please cum on my face.”

Bill let out a long, loud groan, and then Stan opened his mouth to catch what fell on his lips. He swallowed.

“Fuck, Stanley, baby,” Bill groaned, and Stan wiped around his eyes before opening them wide and looking up at Bill, who was panting. “Fuck,” He groaned again, looking down at Stan, “I could go again just seeing you like this.” He turned to the bed side table beside him, pulling out the wipes Stan kept there for this purpose. He pulled one out and gently rubbed over Stan’s face with it, his eyes fluttering closed again in return. “I almost hate to clean you up,” Bill commented, amusement in his voice, “You always look perfect, but I just fucking love seeing my results after I ruin you.”

Stan blushed and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think I can stand,” He confessed, half laughing as Bill threw the wipe in the small trash bin nearby.

“Then don’t stand,” Bill shrugged, in a playful mood now, crawling over Stan to kiss him gently.

“But you want a blunt,” He insisted, “And I need ice. Thanks for that, by the way; my ass hurts now. Is it really red?” He fretted, “Ugh, I’ll die if I have welts tomorrow.”

“That was the point, babe,” Bill winked, kissing Stan’s nose as he got up off from him, chuckling a little at Stan’s worries. “I told you that you were gonna kill me, and yeah, it’s, like, _really_ fucking red, but I don’t think you’ll get welts.”

He went around to his nightstand and grabbed out a lighter and a blunt that he’d apparently already rolled, lighting it and taking a long puff. Stan watched him, considering how much he loved the man.

“I’ll go get you some ice for your ass,” Bill giggled, holding the blunt between his fingertips and away from Stan’s face (So not to burn him, obviously) as he leaned in to kiss him again. It was soft, and Stan let his fingertips linger on Bill’s cheeks as he pulled away.

“Thank you,” He replied quietly, fingers barely tracing over Bill’s cheekbones as he leaned over Stan.

“Let me know if you don’t want me to be so rough next time, okay? The last thing I ever want is to hurt you,” Bill spoke sincerely, eyes pouring into Stan’s. “I would literally rather die than you ever get hurt. I love you _so_ much, Stan-,”

“I know,” Stan smiled softly, pulling his boyfriend’s face back down and close to his again with a smile, rubbing their noses together. “We have a safeword for a reason. I love you, too, Bill, _so_ much.” He kissed him chastely, Bill’s eyes fluttering closed and then back open when Stan pulled away. “Now can I _please_ get some ice?”

“Right, right, ice for your ass welts,” He teased, tongue poking through his teeth as he stood and Stan groaned with mock irritation. “Got it.”

“Shut up!” Stan covered his reddening face with his hands.

“I love you-ooh!” Bill sing-songed as he jogged down the stairs.

“I love you, too.” Stan rolled his eyes with a small smile. He really did.


End file.
